• 


II  a  0  A  U 


••MM 


REDMOND 

• 

COUNT   O'HANLON, 

The  Irish  Rapparee. 

AN  HISTORICAL  TALE. 

•  V 

WILLIAM    CARLETON, 


Athor  at  "  Valentine  McClntchy,"  "  Tale*  and  StorlM  of  the  Irish 

••Tb»  Tithe  Proctor,"  "Art  Magulre,"   "  Willy  Bclllj,"   "Fardo- 

rough*,  the  Mi§er."  "The  Black  Prophet."  "The  BUck 

Baronet,"    "Jane   Sinclair,"    "The    Etni- 

of    Ahadam,"    "The 

KrU  Eje,"  io. 


NEW  YORK  -. 
P.  J.  KENEDY, 

EXCELSIOR  PUBLISHING  HOUSE, 

5     BARCLAY    STREET. 
1896. 


Copyright, 
D.  *  J.  SADLIER  ft  CO, 


, 


REDMOND  COUNT  O'HANLON, 

THE    IRISH    RAPPAREE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  HAPPY  FIRESIDE,  WITH  A  MARRIAGE  IN  THE  DISTANCE. 

IN  the  year  of  grace  sixteen  hundred  and  ninety-six,  there 
lived  not  far  from  the  northern  base  of  Slievegullion  mountain 
»  rery  wealthy  farmer  named  Callan,  who  was  father  to  one 
daughter  named  Rose,  his  eldest  child,  and  three  sons,  none 
of  whom  had  grown  beyond  boyhood.  This  man  held  a  farm 
of  two  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  excellent  land,  at  a  very 
light  rent,  and  lived  in  rnde  abundance  and  comfort.  We 
must  admit,  however,  that  if  it  were  not  for  a  certain  compact 
into  which  he. had  entered  with  a  man  whose  reputation  a« 
that  time  had  become  known  throughout  Europe,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  us  to  say  that  he  could  have  lived  under  any- 
thing  like  a  sense  of  security  so  far  as  his  property,  at  least, 
was  concerned.  Of  this,  however,  more  hereafter.  This 
firmer,  by  name  Brian  Callan,  was  laborious,  simple-hearted, 
ami  honest ;  an  affectionate  husband,  a  fond  father,  and  an 
obliging  neighbor.  His  wife  was  a  Duffy,  and  on  the  surface 
of  this  earth  there  breathed  not  a  woman  gifted  with  more  </ 
those  virtues  which  adorn  and  shed  their  pure  and  holy  lustre 
upon  domestic  life.  Honesty,  charity,  simplicity,  piety,  and 
affection,  all  mingled  and  supported  each  other  in  her  charac- 
ter, and  made  her  name  a  household  world  of  praiie  for  many 


••*• 


OCCNT  O'HAKLOH, 

a  mile  aronnd  her  happy  dwelling.  We  will  not  fatigue  oar 
readers  with  an  elaborate  description  of  their  dang\ter  Rose. 
There  are  plenty  of  such  descriptions  in  the  novJs,  although 
you  could  not  probably  find  one  of  them  suitable  to  her. 
She  was  about  the  middle  size,  had  rich  dark  auburn  hair,  rae 
exquisitely  shaped,  had  a  sweet  oval  face,  a  beautiful  mouth, 
and  soft,  dark,  mellow  eyes ;  and  there,  as  to  figure  and 
beauty,  is  all  we  will  or  can  say  concerning  her  person.  In  a 
moral  point  of  view,  there  was  about  her  a  charm  of  artless- 
ness  that  was  fascinating,  to  which,  however,  was  added  a  fund 
of  good  sense  and  spirit  that  excited  respect  from  all  who 
knew  her — a  proof,  besides,  that  she  possessed  no  ordinary 
degree  of  firm  principle  and  stability  of  character.  She  wan 
at  this  period  of  our  story  only  nineteen. 

Not  far  from  her  father's  house  lived  another  family  named 
M'Mahon,  belonging  to  the  great  stock  of  the  M'Mahons  of 
Monaghan.  They  also  were  wealthy  ;  for,  like  the  family  of 
the  Callans,  of  whom  we  write,  they  had  kept  themselves 
aloof  from  the  disturbances  of  the  preceding  tunes,  and  each 
consequently  bore  a  character  of  inoffensive  peacefulness  and 
industry.  Art  M'Mahon  had  three  sons,  two  of  whom  were 
already  married  and  comfortably  settled  hi  their  own  houses. 
His  youngest  son,  Con,  who  still  lived  with  him,  was  unmar- 
ried ;  and,  as  it  was  then  customary  among  his  class,  he  was 
the  individual  into  whose  hands  his  father's  farm  should  de- 
Kend  at  his  death.  Con  M'Mahon  then  was,  at  the  period 
when  our  narrative  commences,  the  betrothed,  and,  need  we 
§ay,  the  accepted  lover  of  Rose  Callan,  generally  known,  in 
consequence  of  her  extraordinary  beauty,  as  the  "  Fair  Rose 
of  Lisbuy" — Lisbuy  signifying  the  Yellow  Fort,  so  called 
from  the  fact  of  its  being  overgrown  with  "iroom ;  and  from 
this  Fort,  or  Forth,  as  it  is  termed  by  the  people,  the  wool* 
townland  had  its  name. 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARKS  I 

It  has  x-en  observed  for  centuries,  and  is,  we  belieTe,  true 
to  the  present  day,  that  of  all  the  clans  01  septa  of  the  Irish 
people,  the  M'Mahons,  both  men  and  women,  stand  unrivaled 
for  personal  beauty.  Nobody  can  say  that  they  ever  saw  a 
M'Mahon  ill-shaped  or  ugly — at  least  we  ourselves  never  did, 
although  we  have  seen  as  many  of  them  as  most  people  living. 
Con  M'Mahon  was  no  exception  to  this  general  rule  ;  for,  in- 
deed, it  would  be  a  difficult  thing  to  see  a  finer-looking  or 
bamlsomer  young  fellow  in  his  native  barony. 

Those  two  families  were  at  this  time  very  happy.  The 
arrangement  for  the  marriage  of  the  "Fair  Rose  of  Lisbuy" 
and  young  Con  M'Mahou  had  been  completed,  and  nothing 
now  remained  but  the  ordinary  preparations  for  that  happy 
event 

The  state  of  Ireland  at  this  time,  though  not  marked  by 
the  dreadful  convulsions  which  had  wasted  and  distracted  it 
not  long  before,  was  still  far  from  being  peaceful  or  settled, 
Property  was  very  unsafe  ;  for  although  the  turbulent  ootragM 
that  had  spread  about  desolation  upon  a  more  fearful  scale, 
bad  somewhat  diminished,  still  there  were  too  many  of  thoae 
violent  and  lawless  spirits  abroad  to  allow  the  peacable  and 
quiet,  especially  if  they  possessed  wealth  or  property,  to  sleep 
in  their  beds  with  anything  like  a  sense  of  security. 

Not  very  far  from  Lisbuy  lived  a  family  named  Johnston, 
who  were  then  claiming  some  property  which  had  been  for- 
feited by  the  O'Hanlons,  of  Tandragee.  a  Catholic  family,  who 
had  fought  under  James's  banner  at  the  battle  of  the  Boyne, 
where  several  of  them  fell  in  that  unsuccessful  struggle.  Thia 
family  was  a  branch  of  the  celebrated  Johnstons  of  the  Fews — 
Protestants  of  great  energy  and  spirit,  and  who  had  very 
much  distinguished  themselves  in  suppressing  the  outrages 
which,  even  then,  disturbed  that  part  of  the  country.  A 
jroong  man  belonging  to  the  branch  we  have  alluded  to*  and 


who  held  a  commission  in  the  king's  army,  was  at  that  timt 
residing  with  a  detachment  of  his  regiment,  which  was  then 
lying  in  the  barracks  of  Armagh.  This  young  soldier,  with 
the  exception  of  an  occasional  chase  after  the  Rapparees,  had 
never  been  engaged  in  actual  service.  He  was,  however,  of 
looee  and  licentious  principles,  and  spent  a  good  deal  of  his 
time  in  profligacy  or  debauchery  of  the  worst  description. 
Whilst  lying  in  Armagh  with  his  party,  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  riding  frequently  to  his  father's  house,  and  at  the  same  time 
reconnoitering  the  country  for  his  victims.  Every  army,  in 
every  age  and  country,  has  produced  men  of  this  detestable 
character;  and,  indeed,  in  any  army,  or  hi  any  country,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  unscrupulous  villain  thaa 
young  William  Lucas.  God  had  endowed  him  with  certain 
high  gifts,  which  he  prostituted  to  the  basest  and  most  profli- 
gate purposes.  Being  handsome,  accomplished,  and  wealthy, 
though  said  to  be  deficient  in  courage,  he  concentrated  all 
these  advantages  to  that  which  we  have  stated  to  be  the  great 
and  immoral  object  of  his  life — reckless  sensuality. 

Upon  one  of  his  usual  excursions  to  his  father's  house,  it  s** 
happened  that  he  caught  a  glance  of  Rose  Callan,  whom  h- 
immediately  marked  down  as  his  victim.  His  visits  home  no* 
became  very  frequent;  but  not  satisfied  with  this,  he  occa 
sionally  procured  leave  of  absence  for  a  week  or  fortnight 
under  various  pretenses.  His  usual  amusement  was  shooting, 
by  which  he  was  enabled  to  traverse  the  country,  and  enter 
the  farmers'  or  cotters'  houses,  for  the  purpose,  as  the  unsus* 
pecting  people  thought,  of  asking  a  drink,  or  obtaining  some 
other  refreshment.  Among  others,  he  soon  made  a  point  to 
pay  a  visit  of  this  kind  to  the  family  of  Brian  Callan.  It  ia 
not  our  intention  to  offend  the  taste  of  our  readers  by  at- 
tempting to  detail  the  arts  and  ingenious  devices  with  which 
be  attempted  to  destroy  the  character  of  the  pure  Rose  of 


THE    IRI8H    RAPPAKKB.  1 

Lisbuy.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  they  were  al  exercised  in 
vain.  The  girl  was  virtuous,  and  what  was  still  more  against 
him,  imbued  with  a  deep  sense  of  piety  and  religion.  She  saw 
his  object,  and  in  spite  of  his  easy  and  fascinating  manners, 
the  not  only  despised,  bnt  abhorred  and  detested  him.  On  the 
last  visit  which,  in  his  character  of  a  sportsman,  he  ever  paid 
at  her  father's  house,  after  having  received  a  drink  of  milk,  he 
significantly  handed  her  five  pounds,  as  a  reward,  he  said,  fur 
ncr  hospitality.  This  she  refused,  adding : 

"  The  poorest  beggar,  sir,  that  enters  under  our  roof,  would 
receive  the  same  kindness.  Take  back  your  money  I" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  he  ;  "  I  could  not  think  of  it.  Nothing 
would  give  me  more  pleasure  than  making  such  presents  to  so 
beautiful  a  girl  as  you  are." 

" 1  will  receive  no  presents  from  you,  sir,"  she  replied,  indig- 
nantly ;  "and  now,  that  I  am  alone  in  my  father's  bouse,  it  in 
dishonorable  in  you  to  offer  them." 

He  then  proceeded  to  approach  her.  "  Keep  your  distance, 
sir,"  said  she  ;  "  don't  approach  me  1" 

He  still  continued,  however,  to  draw  near,  when  she  flew  to 
a  little  cupboard  that  hung  against  the  wall,  and  seizing  an 
Irish  skean,  she  took  God  to  witness,  that  if  he  laid  a  hur.d 
upon  her  she  would  plunge  it  in  his  heart.  As  she  uttered  the 
words,  he  saw  there  was  that  about  her  which  could  not  for  a 
moment  be  misunderstood.  Her  fine  person  became  strung,  ai 
it  rere,  into  intense  vigor — her  dark  eyes  gleamed  with  resolu- 
tion, and  the  natural  crimson  of  her  cheek  deepened  with  in- 
dignation. Lucas  paused,  and  felt  that  he  never  admired  her 
10  much. 

"Why,  my  dear  girl,"  said  he,  "this  is  a  mere  waste  of 
anger ;  but  indeed  you  look  so  beautiful  in  yonr  indignation, 
that  it  is  almost  a  pity  you  should  ever  look  otherwise.  It  if 
•ot  every  day  that  a  gentleman  of  my  wealth  and  rank  hup 


MtDMOXD   CODNT 


pens  to  foil  in  love  with  a  girl  in  your  station  of  life  ;  yet  so 


" 


t  is 

"  Begone,  sir,"  she  replied  :  "  begone,  and  take  your  money 
with  you,  and  let  this  be  your  last  visit  to  my  father's  house." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  he,  "  I  will  take  up  the  money,  but  you 
will  change  your  mind,  I  hope.    Good  bye,  my  beautiful  girl  ; 
think  of  me  as  one  who  is  anxious  to  be  your  friend,  if  you 
would  allow  him,  and  who  would  place  you  hi  a  far  diffei 
ent  -  " 

He  had  gone  outside  the  door,  where  he  stood  while  utter- 
Ing  the  words  ;  ere  he  could  proceed  further,  however,  in  the 
rile  proposal  he  was  about  to  insinuate,  she  slapped  the  door 
Indignantly  iu  his  face,  and  having  secured  it  inside,  she  sat 
down  and  gave  way  to  a  burst  of  bitter  tears. 

"  What  a  beautiful  creature  she  is  1"  he  exclaimed  to  him- 
self ;  "  I  have  seen  nothing  like  her  so  for  -  and  the  truth 
is,  I  must  have  her  by  hook  or  by  crook." 

This  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  he  had  found  Rose 
Callan  alone  in  her  father's  house,  and  the  reader  is  now 
cognizant  of  the  success  with  which  he  attempted  to  corrupt 
her  principles. 

It  was  one  night  in  the  month  of  November,  about  six 
weeks  after  this  event,  hi  the  year  above  mentioned,  that 
Brian  Callan  was  sitting  at  his  comfortable  hearth  chatting 
happily  with  his  children,  his  laboring  servants,  and  a  few  of 
the  neighboring  peasantry,  who  had  come,  as  the  phrase  is,  to 
nake  then*  keailye  with  him  for  an  hour  or  two.  Rose  was  at 
her  distaff,  inside  the  jamb,  spinning  flax,  an  occupation  which 
at  that  tine  was  not  common  even  in  Ireland  ;  her  mother 
was  grinding  oats  in  a  quern,  or  hand-mill,  which  was  placed 
on  a  quilt  spread  over  the  kitchen  floor,  to  prevent  the  meal 
from  being  wasted.  Rose's  dark  auburn  hair  was  bound  by  a 
ribbon  that  went  round  her  head,  but  did  not  prevent  it  <TODI 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARUL 

Sailing  in  i  ich  natural  ringlets  about  her  snowy  white  shoul- 
ders. The  chimney  was  well  liked  with  fat  smoke-dried  bacoa 
and  hung  beef,  and  the  whole  house  had  an  air  of  great  warmth, 
comfort,  and  cleanliness.  A  blazing  fire  of  turf  was  down, 
which  threw  its  rich  and  mellow  light  throughout  the  whole 
kitchen.  Rose,  however,  did  not  seem  to  take  a  very  particu- 
lar interest  in  their  conversation,  but  seemed  somewhat  ab- 
stracted, if  not  anxious,  for  it  might  be  observed  that  she 
paused  as  if  to  listen  from  time  to  time,  and  if  a  noise  happen- 
ed to  be  heard,  especially  near  the  door,  she  would  start,  and 
her  eyes  would  brighten  for  a  moment.  On  finding  that  there 
was  nothing  in  it,  however,  she  would  resume  her  spinning, 
and  seem  somewhat  cast  down  or  disappointed. 

"  Come,"  said  her  father  to  his  eldest  son,  a  fine  manly  boy 
of  thirteen,  "come  Owen,  tell  us  a  story." — for  Owen,  like 
many  a  boy  of  his  age,  was  not  only  fond  of  stories,  but  a 
famous  story-teller  himself ;  in  fact,  quite  a  young  Senachie. 

"  Come,  Owen  avillish,  will  you  give  us  a  story  ?"  they  all 
exclaimed ;  "  you're  the  beauty  of  the  world  at  it." 

"Bedad,  I  dunna  what  to  tell,"  said  Owen,  exceedingly 
proud  at  the  time,  in  consequence  of  being  selected  to  amusa 
the  company ;  "  I  have  none,  sure." 

"  Oh,  that  indeed,"  exclaimed  Shamus  Oew  (James,  the  son 
of  Hugh),  and  you  can  bate  Tom  Gressy  (the  shoemaker^ 
right  and  left." 

"  Well,"  said  Owen,  with  the  face  of  a  lad  who  seemed  de- 
murely conscious  of  his  own  talents,  "  I'll  try  and  do  my  best, 
and  you  all  know  the  best  can  do  no  more." 

"  True  enough,  abouchal,"  said  Shamus,  "  but  at  any  rate 
make  a  beginning  for  you  know  what's  well  begun  is  half- 
ended." 

"Well  —  hem,"  commenced  Owen,  clearing  his  throat, 
"There  wai  a  widow  woman  once,  and  she  tad  three  sous ; 


10  IIDMONO   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

they  were  all  very  poor,  but  it  was  their  own  fault.  The  el<i 
est  was  idle  and  undutiful,  and  wouldn't  do  anything  toward 
their  support ;  the  second  was  as  idle  and  undutiful  as  he  was, 
and  as  lazy  as  Harry  Harvey,  that  could  never  be  got  to  take 
his  shut  off  to  let  it  be  washed  ;  the  only  one  that  ever  did 
anything  for  the  family  was  the  third  and  youngest  of  them 
all,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him  and  his  mother,  they'd  all 
starve.  At  last  one  morniu'  the  eldest  says  to  his  mother, 
'  Mother,  bake  me  a  bannock,  and  roast  me  a  collop,  till  I  go 
and  pitch  (seek)  my  fortune.'  So  his  mother  baked  him  a 
bannock  and  roasted  him  a  collop,  that  he  might  go  and  pitch 
bis  fortune.  Well,  when  the  bannock  was  baked,  and  he 
ready  to  start,  his  mother,  takin'  it  up,  says  to  him,  '  Now, 
whether  will  you  have  the  half  of  this  with  my  blessin',  or  the 
whole  of  it  with  my  curse  ?'  '  Indeed,  mother,'  says  he,  4  the 
whole  of  it  is  little  enough,  I  think,  for  it's  a  short  way  the 
half  of  it  would  take  me  ;  as  for  the  curse,  I'll  take  the  whoto 
of  the  bannock  and  it  together.'  Well,  his  mother  gave  hint 
the  whole  of  the  bannock  sure  enough  ;  but  she  stood  on  the 
thrashil  of  the  door,  and  cursed  him  till  he  got  out  o'  sight 
Well,  he  went  on  far — farther  than  I  can  tell,  till  he  came 
to  a " 

Here  the  latch  of  the  kitchen  door  was  raised,  and  the 
next  minute  young  Con  M'Mahon  made  his  appearance,  ac- 
companied by  his  father  and  his  two  brothers ;  and  ah,  my 
dear  reader,  maybe  the  eyes  of  the  Rose  of  Lisbuy  did  nrt 
flash  and  glisten,  and  her  pure  but  loving  heart  palpitate  with 
ecstasy  when  she  saw  her  lover  and  heard  his  voice.  Her 
cheeks  glowed  with  a  blush  of  joy  and  happiness  which  she 
could  not  repress,  and  the  distaff  became  unmanageable  in  her 
hands. 

"  God  save  all  here  1 " — welcome  and  social  words-  -and 
"God  save  you  kindly  1"  soon  passed  between  them.  In  a 


THE  IRISH    RAPPAKB.  11 

moment  the  company  about  the  fire  rose  np  in  order  that  new 
arrangements  for  places  and  accommodation  might  be  made 
The  semicircle  about  the  hearth  was  extended  ;  other  seat* 
were  drawn  in  ;  they  once  more  sat  down  ;  each,  of  course, 
comfortable  ;  but  there  was  one  place  unanimously  allowed 
and  reserved  for  the  lover — and  that  was  his  usual  one — on 
the  hob  immediately  behind  Rose's  chair.  There  was  nothing 
in  this  to  offend  Rose's  delicacy.  Every  thing  with  respect 
to  their  forthcoming  marriage  was  known  throughout  the 
parish,  and  his  father  and  brothers  accompanied  him  for  the 
purpose  of  settling  the  day  for  their  wedding.  After  some 
chat  between  the  seniors  present,  and  a  low,  tender  dialogue 
between  Con  and  Rose,  old  M'Mahon  at  last  left  his  seat,  and 
going  behind  the  jamb  returned  with  a  jar  of  spirits,  because, 
be  it  known  to  our  readers,  that  no  negotiations  of  this  kind 
erer  takes  place  without  whisky,  which,  by  the  way,  is  uni- 
formly provided  by  the  bridegroom  and  his  relatives.  On  this 
occasion  we  need  not  say  that  it  added  very  much  to  the 
harmony  and  hilarity  of  those  who  were  assembled,  especially 
upon  an  occasion  in  itself  naturally  festive.  The  conversation 
was  enlivened  by  mirth  and  laughter,  and  every  one,  especially 
the  youngsters,  looked  forward  to  the  day  of  the  wedding 
with  a  sense  of  exuberant  delight,  which  they  could  not  re- 
strain. At  length  the  whisky  began  to  circulate,  and  the 
wnversation,  after  bearing  on  many  different  topics,  began  to 
to  turn  toward  the  occasion  on  which  they  were  assembled : 
this  was  simply  to  appoint  the  day  on  which  the  young  couple 
should  be  married  and  made  happy.  Some  one  suggested, 
from  a  motive  of  comic  malice,  that  the  marriage  should  take 
place  on  a  Sunday  ;  but  this  was  received  with  a  clamor  of 
UidignatiOL  that  soon  put  an  end  to  such  a  disagreeable  and 
nunational  project  Every  one  krew,  they  said,  that  they 
would  hare  Sunday,  whether  they  *ere  married  or  not,  and 


IS  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

that  such  an  arrangement  would  deprive  them  of  the  benefit 
of  a  holiday  during  the  week  ;  besides,  did  not  all  the  world 
know  that  Sunday  marriages  were  never  lucky.  No,  no,  they 
would  not  stand  that:  and  the  arrangement  took  place  ac- 
cordingly. There  is,  indeed,  such  a  prejudice  against  mar- 
riages on  the  Sabbath,  and  some  unfounded  superstition  exists 
against  them,  and  on  this  account  very  few  marriages  ever  do 
take  place  upon  that  day  And  indeed  we  may  remark  here, 
that  the  prejudice  we  speak  of  prevails  as  much  in  high  life  as 
it  does  among  the  humbler  classes.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the 
healths  of  the  young  pair  were  drank  with  all  the  warmth  and 
enthusiasm  peculiar  to  our  national  character.  Other  healths 
also  went  round  ;  hands  were  grasped  in  cordiality  and  friend- 
ship,  and  the  evening  closed  with  a  short  encomium  :  first,  on 
the  excellent  qualities  and  many  virtues  of  Rose  Callaii  by  her 
affectionate  and  admiring  father. 

"  She  is,"  said  he,  whilst  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  "  she 
is — but  where's  the  use  of  me  sayin*  what  she  is  ?  Doesn't 
every  one  know  it  ?  There  she  sits  ;  the  girl  that  never  gave 
one  of  us  a  sore  heart,  nor  ever  wanst  disturbed  even  our 
temper.  It  is  not  the  fortune  that  you'll  get  along  wid  her. 
Con  M'Mahon,  for  I  think  nothing  of  that,  and  I'm  sure  you 
don't  either." 

"  No,  Brian,  not  the  value  of  a  grain  of  chaff,"  replied  her 
generous  young  lover. 

"  No,  I  knew  you  didn't,"  continued  her  father  ;  "  but  you 
wi"  have  a  fortune  and  what's  worth  a  thousand  fortunes  be- 
sides, and  that  is  the  blessin'  of  God,  and  a  pure  and  lovin' 
heart  tliat  will  make  you  contented  aud  happy,  even  if  you 
had  only  the  black  wather  and  the  dry  potatoes  between  you, 
In  the  meantime,  you  won't  be  broight  to  that,  I  trust. 
You're  both  goin'  together  with  comfortable  manes,  and  tht 
free  const  nt  of  your  parents  and  friends  on  both  sid>*«,  and 


THE   IRISH    IUPMXEE.  IS 

BAJ  God  grant  yon  both — as  I'm  sore  he  will — happiness  and 
heahh  and  comfort  daring  roar  lives  1" 

Old  M'Mahon  rose  and  grasped  his  hand,  whilst  he  said — 

"  Every  word,  Brian,  that  has  come  from  your  lips  is  true, 
and  we  all  know  it  to  be  so — and  indeed  he  should  be  able  tn 
make  a  far  look-oat  that  could  find  a  husband  worthy  of  her. 
If  any  one  is,  I  think  my  son  Con  comes  near  it — bat,  indeed, 
even  he  isn't." 

"What's  that  you  say?"  replied  her  father,  rising  up  sud- 
denly, "  am  I  to  understand  yon  as  lay  in'  down  to  us,  that 
your  son  Con  there  isn't  worthy  of  her  1" 

"  Troth  he's  not,"  rejoined  his  father,  and  I  don't  know  the 
boy  that  is." 

"  Honoman  dioual,  man,  don't  attempt  to  say  such  a  thing 
at  my  fireside.  He  is  her  fill  of  a  husband — and  fit  to  be  a 
husband  for  a  better  girl  than  ever  stood  in  her  shoes — that 
Is,  if  such  a  girl  could  be  had." 

"  Troth  an'  he  isn't,"  persisted  his  father ;  "  divfl  a  boy  in  the 
barony  of  Orior  is  worthy  of  her.  Don't  look  angry,  Brian. 
I  know  what  I'm  sayin',  and  I  know  the  value  of  my  son,  aa 
well  as  you  do  of  your  daughter — or  may  be  betther,  for  I 
don't  think  you  know  the  full  value  of  your  daughter  yet ;  but 
if  you  don't,  I  do,  and  I  say  there's  not  a  man  in  the  barony 
of  Orior  worthy  of  her,  nor  in  the  five  baronies  next  it — 
and  that  is  more,  I  believe." 

"  Con  M'Mahon,  I'd  contradict  you,  if  it  was  the  last  word 
in  my  death  rattle.  I  say,  your  sou — sitting  there  before  us 
is — and  I  say,  if  you  hadn't  the  whisky  in  your  head  you 
wouldn't  deny  it, — and,  indeed,  between  you  and  me,  it's  not  a 
very  fatherly  thing  for  you  to  do — I  know  the  value  of  my 
daughter  well." 

44 1  deny  that,  too,"  replied  old  M'Mahon  ;  "  I  deny  it ;  I 
my  you  don't  know  half  her  value  " 


14  REMIOND   COUNT 

"Why  corpan  dioual,  man  alive,  who  has  a  b«tt«f 
right  to  know  it  so  well — barrin',  indeed,  her  mother — well 
then n 

"  Ay,  there  is — another — that  knows  it  better  than  either 
of  you." 

"  Well,  may  be  so,"  returned  Callan,  partly  in  a  tone  of 
lirony,  and  partly  in  one  of  amazement  at  the  mystery  in- 
volved in  M'Mahon's  extraordinary  line  of  argument ;  "  but 
who  might  that  other  person  be  ?" 

"  Why,  then,  I'll  tell  you  ;  that  young  Cornet  Lucas — but 
nothing,  thank  goodness,  to  the  Lucases  of  Castleshane " 

Rose's  father  paused,  looked  about  him,  then  at  his  daugb 
ter,  whose  whole  neck  and  countenance  became  instantly  over- 
spread with  a  deep  and  burning  blush.  His  eye  rested  on  her 
for  a  moment.  Why  did  she  blush  ? — here  was  a  mystery— 
perhaps  disgrace.  His  veins  became  tremulous  with  agitation, 
and  his  features  the  color  of  death.  He  hemmed  two  or 
three  times  in  order  to  recover  his  breath  and  his  voice,  foi 
both  for  a  space  had  left  him. 

"  Con  M 'Mahon,"  said  he,  "  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? 
My  child's  name  is  as  pure  as  her  own  heart,  as  the  snow  from 
Heaven  ;  beware  of  castin'  a  stain  upon  it,  for  I  am,  as  you 
know,  something  like  yourself  when  I'm  vexed — a  dangerous 
man  ;  and  what  I  might  overlook  in  my  own  case,  I  neither 
could  nor  will  in  her's.  Spake  out ;  or,  if  you  don't,  I'll 
make  you,  before  ever  you  put  your  head  from  under  this  roof. 
My  child  is  my  life,  and  dearer  to  me  than  it  is." 

"  It's  a  terrible  disclosure  I  have  to  make,"  replied  M'Ma- 
hon,  solemnly  ;  "  and  as  I  know  it  may  be  the  means  rf  great 
distress  to  some  one,  I  don't  care  if  I  take  another  glass  of 
whisky  before  I  spake  out." 

"The  whisky  is  your  own,"  replied  Callan,  ''and  a?  yon 
tare  been  givin'  it  round  all  the  night,  help  yourself." 


THE    IRISH    RAPiTARKB.  II 

These  words  he  ottered  with  a  voice  that  was  hoarse  and 
deeply  agitated. 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  rather  coolly,  611ing  a  glass  for  him- 
K-lf  at  the  same  time,  "  here's  all  our  healths,  and  that  we  may 
get  well  out  of  it — only,  in  the  manetime,  I  wish  that  a  per* 
son  I  was  spaking  to  a  few  days  ago  was  here  now,  that  he 
might  bear  witness  to  the  charge  I'm  goin'  to  make  against — 
against — against  who  ? — why,  honoman  dioual,  man,  against 
your  daughter  1" 

A  silence  like  that  of  death  followed  these  words  for  more 
than  a  minute.  The  whole  company  seemed  to  be  thundei- 
struck.  Rose's  mother  got  up  and  was  about  to  approach 
M'Mahon,  with  all  the  indignation  of  a  mother  in  her  eyes, 
when  the  kitchen  door  opened,  and  a  lame  man,  in  the  garb 
of  a  beggar,  entered  the  kitchen.  The  moment  M'Mahon 
saw  him  he  started  up,  exclaiming — 

"God  is  good  and  just ;  and  the  very  man  I  wished  to  set 
at  this  moment  is  here.  Patchy  Baccach,  although  I'm  not 
undher  my  own  roof,  still  111  bid  you  welcome.  Here,  man," 
he  added,  filling  him  a  glass  of  spirits,  "  try  this,  and  tell  m* 
first  what  you  think  of  it.  Afther  that  we  want  to  have  your 
opinion  upon  a  certain  subject  that  we  wor  just  talk  in'  about, 
and  if  I  don't  mistake,  you  can  throw  some  light  upon  it." 

Patchy,  who  was  called  Baccach,  in  consequent  of  hia 
lameness,  took  the  glass,  and  was  about  to  drink  it,  when 
Brian  Gallan  interrupted  him. 

"  Patchy,"  said  he,  "  Con  M'Mahon  has  bid  you  welcome 
inder  my  roof ;  but  before  you  drink  that  glass  I  wish  to  say 
that  I  and  more  bid  you  welcome  as  heartily  as  he  did  ;  get  * 
•eat  for  Patchy  there,  and  let  him  sit  down." 

"  Many  thanks  to  you  both,  gentlemen,"  said  Patchy,  taking 
the  seat  which  one  of  the  youngsters  had  reached  him.  "  Many 
thanks  to  you  both,  and  health  and  happiness  to  all  of  in  I 


16  BKDMOND   COUNT   O'HAXLOIC, 

What  I  think  of  it,  Con  M'Mahon  ?  Oh  then,  death  alire, 
what  could  any  one  think  of  it  that  tastes  it,  barrin'  that  on« 
glass  of  it  desarves  another  to  the  end  of  the  chapter." 

"  Well,  Patchy,"  replied  M'Mahon,  taking  him  at  his  word, 
for  the  hint  was  so  well  given  that  it  was  impossible  to  refuse 
him,  "  you  must  have  another  ;  sure  they'll  keep  one  anothei 
company,  and  be  neighborly  where  they're  gone  to  " 

Patchy  having  finished  the  second  glass,  and  taken  a  view 
of  those  about  him,  saw  at  once  that  they  appeared  gloomy 
•nd  evidently  disturbed.  He  said  nothing,  however,  but  re- 
solved  to  watch  the  event  of  this  agitated  state  of  feeling, 
whatever 'it  might  be. 

Rose's  mother,  however,  now  that  this  little  incident  had 
passed,  approached  M'Mahon,  whom  her  husband  was  also 
approaching,  but  she  put  him  aside. 

"  Come,  now,"  said  she,  "  what  charge,  Con  M'Mahon,  have 
you  to  make  against  our  daughter  ?" 

"  Why,  not  much,"  he  replied*;  "  nothing  to  signify,  barring 
to  receive  private  visits  from  young  Cornet  Lucas  undher  your 
own  roof — undher  this  very  roof." 

"Father,"  said  her  lover,  getting  up,  "whoever  told  yon 
that  is  a  liar ;  it  is  as  false  as  hell — as  false  as  the  lying  tongue 
and  the  black  heart  of  the  scoundrel  you  speak  of." 

Rose,  seizing  him  by  the  arm,  whispered  to  him  to  sit  down, 
and  to  keep  himself  calm.  "  Don't  be  alarmed,"  she  added, 
"about  me.  Let  them  finish  the  subject  among  them  ;  after 
that  trust  to  me — to  your  own  Rose." 

As  if  overcome  by  the  wand  of  an  enchanter,  he  immediately 
eat  down,  his  dark,  mellow  eye  beaming  upon  her  with  pride, 
love,  and  confidence,  which  no  charge  or  slander  could  shake. 

"  I  agrev  wid  your  son,"  said  her  father,  stepping  before  hii 
wife  ;  "the  thing  is  a  lie.  He  never  had  a  private  meetur* 
Wid  her  undher  this  roof,  nor  anywhere  else." 


THB  nura  lumjn.  IT 


"  I  think  yon  bad  betther  ask  herself,"  said  the  Baccach 

"Right,  Patchy,"  said  her  father.  "Come,  Rose,"  ht 
added,  taming  triumphantly  to  his  daughter,  "  is  this  true  ? 
Had  you  ever  a  private  meetiu'  wid  young  Cornet  Lucas  ?" 

"  I  had,"  she  replied,  smiling. 

Her  father  and  mother  fell  down  suddenly  on  their  seata 
and  covered  their  faces  with  their  hands  ;  but  her  lover,  on 
the  contrary,  remained  calm  and  firm.  Old  M'Mahon  also 
smiled,  and,  after  looking  significantly  at  the  Baccach,  said  : 

"  We  must  have  another  glass  on  the  head  of  this." 

It  was  evident,  however,  that  when  he  spoke  in  the  plural 
number  he  meant  no  other  person  than  himself.  Having  taken 
the  glass,  he  proceeded  : 

"Now,  Brian  Callan,  what  do  yon  say,  or  what  can  you 
§ay  of  the  daughter  you  praised  so  highly  ?" 

"  That  she's  truth  and  honesty,  M'Mahon ;  and  that  she 
never  had,  wid  her  own  consent,  a  private  meetin'  wid  him  ; 
that  he  used  to  call  here  when  he  was  out  shootin'  to  get 
•omething  to  refresh  him,  I  grant,  but  then  we  were  always 
present  ;  and  now,  Con  M'Mahon,  lave  my  house,  both  your- 
•elf  and — no  ;  I  was  goiu'  to  say  your  son,  but  I  won't.  N« 
idle  piece  of  falsehood  or  scandal  will  ever  break  down  his 
love  for  my  daughter  ;  or  if  it  does,  then  he's  no  longer  worthy 
of  her,  and  she'll  have  a  good  escape  of  him." 

M'Mahon,  after  whispering  a  few  moments  with  the  Boo 
each,  said : 

"  Well,  Brian,  I  think  we  have  gone  far  enough,  maybe  too 
tar-but  it  is  time  to  clear  this  business  up.  I  tonld  you  that 
yon  did'nt  know  half  the  good  qualities  of  your  daughter,  and 
neither  yon  do  ;  but  I  have  better  authority  ready  to  spake 
for  her,  and  that's  both  an  eye-witness  and  an  ear-witneM. 
Come.  Patchy,  go  to  work,  and  set  all  right." 

To  the  utter  astonishment  of  Rose,  Patchy  commenced  tad 
2 


18  BKDMOND   COUNT 

fare  to  the  whole  company  an  accurate  and  detailed  account 
of  the  last  visit  which  young  Lucas  had  paid  to  her  father's 
house,  not  omitting  the  history  of  the  proffered  bribe,  nor  th« 
more  significant  episode  of  the  skean,  and  the  equally  signifi 
cant  purpose  for  which  Rose  had  resorted  to  it,  winding  up  all 
with  the  indignant  resolution  she  had  displayed  in  slapping  the 
door  in  his  face,  and  barring  it  immediately  afterward. 

"Now I"  exclaimed  old  M'Mahon,  in  triumph,  "didn't  I 
tell  you,  Brian,  that  you  knew  only  half  the  value  of  yo»ir 
sweet  girl.  Come  over,  Rose,  and  kiss  your  father-in-law, 
darlin',  for  it's  he  that  will  be  proud  of  you  as  his  daughter." 

Rose  complied  at  once,  and  the  old  man  embraced  her  with 
the  most  paternal  tenderness,  after  which  she  returned  to  her 
seat. 

In  the  meantime,  her  father  and  mother  felt  their  hearts 
divided  between  joy  and  surprise. 

"  Why,  then,  Rose  1"  exclaimed  both  parents,  almost  at  tht 
same  moment,  "  why  is  it  that  you  never  mentioned  a  word 
of  this  to  us  ?" 

"  Because,"  replied  Rose,  "  I  didn't  wish  to  make  eithei  of 
you  uneasy.  I  knew  very  well  that  I  taught  him  a  lesson  he 
would  not  forget ;  and  knowing,  as  I  did,  from  the  treatnn  nt 
I  gave  him,  that  he  would  never  pay  another  visit  to  this 
house,  I  thought  it  would  only  make  you  both  unhappy  to 
hear  it,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  I  never  mentioned  it.  But 
row,  I  must  say,  that  I  don't  know,  under  heaven,  how  any- 
one, barring  bun — the  villain,  and  myself — could  come  to  the 
Knowledge  of  what  passed  between  us.  There  iras  nobody 
present  that  I  could  tee,  and  I  don't  think  that  he  would  be 
apt  to  mention  it  to  anybody,  in  regard  that  it  would  only 
bring  disgrace  upon  himself." 

"  Ha  1  ha  I  ma  cofeen,"  replied  Patchy,  "  maybe  you're  • 
little  out  there,  anyhow  Don't  you  know  the  little 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARKK.  If 

that's  in  the  back  o'  the  kitchen,  and  that  was  then  half  jpen. 
Maybe  there  wasn't  a  certain  Baccach  peepin'  in  at  the  time, 
and  that  had  both  his  eyes  and  his  ears  open  to  see  and  to 
hear  all  that  passed  ;  and  maybe  that  same  Baccach  hadn't  a 
bit  o'  goods  about  him  that  would  have  put  daylight  through 
the  villain  if  he  had  laid  an  improper  finger  upon  you." 

As  he  spoke  he  pulled  out  an  excellent  case  of  pistols,  and 
handed  them  round  to  the  company. 

"  It  wasn't  for  nothing,"  he  added,  "  that  I  got  the  same 
wound  that  made  me  a  cripple  for  life,  in  the  wars  against 
Cromwell,  the  villain,  where  I  got  a  skelp  of  a  bullet  in  the 
pip  that  has  lamed  me  for  life.  Oh,  we  had  plenty  of  Rappi* 
fees  then,  that  did  good  service.  Give  me  a  glass  o'  whisky, 
till  I  drink  their  health  ;  but  mark  me,  1  don't  mane  the 
Tories,  although  many  people,  in  their  ignorance,  put  them  to- 
gether ;  for  the  Tories  rob  and  murder  the  Catholics  as  well  aa 
the  Protestants,  whenever  they  could  do  it  safely,  the  cowardly 
scoundrels.  Thank  you,  Con  M'Mahon.  Here,  then,  is  the 
health  of  the  glorious  Rapparees  ?" 

He  drank  off  the  glass  which  old  M'Mahon  had  handed 
him,  after  which  the  heroism  of  Rose — the  fair  Hose  of  Lis- 
buy — was  next  proposed,  and,  need  we  say,  ricoived  with 
enthusiasm. 

"  Well,"  said  Brian  Callan,  when  this  temporary  excitement 
had  settled  down  to  something  like  sober  conversation,  "  that 
1  may  never  stir,  Con  M'Mahon,  if  yon  arn't  the  greatest 
whamer  on  the  face  of  the  airth  ;  but  sure  we  ought  all  to 
know  you,  you  thief :  sure  it's  as  common  as  the  church  steeple 
that  you  can  neither  buy  nor  sell  widout  a  joke/ 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  old  hoaxer — for,  in  fact,  he  TOI 
inch — "very  well,  then,  a  merry  heart  is  always  u  light  one  : 
or,  on  the  other  hand,  a  light  heart  is  always  a  merry  one  ; 
mod  in  truth,  in  my  opinion,  one  laugh  is  worth  fifty  cryi  ai  * 


tO  REDMOKD   COUNT 

day.  And  iiow  that  everything  is  settled,  Brian,  we'll  bt 
biddin'  yon  and  yours  good  night.  The  course  of  happiness  U 
clear  before  the  youngsters  ;  and  may  God  keep  it  so  I" 

There  was  one  individual  among  them,  however,  who  had 
paid  a  comparatively  small  degree  of  attention  to  the  conver- 
sation which  went  forward.  This  person  sat  wrapped  np,  as 
it  were,  in  himself,  or  in  his  exuberant  imagination,  watching 
an  opening  in  the  busy  dialogues  which  intersected  each  other 
with  such  unbroken  continuity.  The  person  we  allude  to  was 
the  young  Senachie,  or  story-teller,  who  now  seeing  that  there 
was  a  lull  in  the  conversation,  as  the  neighbors  were  about  to 
prepare  for  their  departure,  thought  he  might  succeed  hi  ar 
resting  their  attention  for  a  short  time,  until  he  could  disbur- 
then  himself  of  his  legend. 

"  Con  M'Mahon,"  said  he,  "  I  was  goiu'  to  tell  them  a 
story  when  you  came  in,  but  now  that  there's  time  to  hear  it, 
I'll  go  on  wid  it — hem !  There  was  a  widow  woman  once, 
and  she  had  three  sons " 

"  Owen,  my  boy,"  said  M'Mahon,  "  I'm  afraid  its  too  late 
now  to  hear  your  story." 

"  Oh,"  replied  Owen,  "  it's  not  a  long  one  ;  you'll  be  time 
enough — hem.  There  was  a  widow  woman  once,  and  she  had 
three  sons " 

" Some  other  time,  Owen  abouchal"  said  M'Mahon,  with  a 
grave  but  droll  face ;  "on  the  night  of  the  weddin',  man  alive  ; 
keep  it  for  the  night  o*  the  weddin'." 

This  jest  of  M'Mahon's  produced,  of  course,  an  uproar  of 
mirth,  save  and  except  on  the  part  of  the  young  couple,  who 
kept  considerably  hi  the  back  ground.  The  strangers  now 
took  their  departure,  first  having  taken  then*  dock  an  rfr/mwA, 
or  parting  cup,  with  the  exception  of  Patchy  Bacoach,  wha 
was  detained  by  Brian  Callan  for  the  night. 


IBB    OUSH    RAFPAUUL  11 

CHAPTER    II 

THE  ABDUCTION  OF  THE  ROSE  OF  LI8BUY. 

IT  was  usual,  at  the  time  in  which  the  incidents  of  our  story 
occurred,  for  the  farmers  of  Ireland  to  allocate  a  place  in  the 
barns  or  other  out-houses  attached  to  theii  dwellings,  in  which 
their  male  servants,  and  sometimes  their  grown  sons,  should 
ileep.  It  was  the  custom  then,  and  is,  in  many  instances,  to 
the  present  day.  On 'the  night  in  question,  Brian  Callan'i 
young  sons  retired  to  the  barn  to  sleep,  accompanied  by 
Patchy  Baccach,  who  had  a  separate  shake-down  for  himself. 
Young  Owen,  who  was  still  full  of  his  legend,  and  anxious 
to  deliver  himself  of  it,  insisted  on  narrating  it,  but,  as  hia 
brothers  had  heard  it  a  hundred  times,  they  preferred  hearing 
Patchy's  account  of  the  wars — and  to  this  Patchy  readily  as- 
sented. He  amused  them  by  many  a  wild  account  of  those 
fierce  and  bloody  conflicts,  until  both  he  and  they  fell  uiicon- 
•ciously  asleep. 

In  the  meantime,  Brian  Callan  and  the  other  members  of 
his  family,  after  recommending  themselves  devoutly  and  piously 
to  the  protection  of  Qod,  retired  to  their  beds,  and  soon  after 
were  sunk  in  deep  and  dreamless  repose.  They  all  led  inno- 
cent and  inoffensive  lives,  were  peaceful  and  industrious,  and 
well  beloved  by  their  neighbors  and  acquaintances.  With  the 
exception  of  the  robberies  which,  at  that  unsettled  period, 
were  so  frequent,  persons  of  their  quiet  character  had  nothing 
to  fear ;  and,  on  this  occasion,  for  reasons  with  which  the 
reader  will  be  made  acquainted,  Brian  Callan  and  his  family 
itept,  in  what  they  considered  perfect  security.  In  the  dead 
hour  of  the  night,  however,  a  violent  knocking  took  place  »t 


22  mtDMOND  COUNT  o'HANLON, 

She  door,  and  voices,  marked  by  tones  of  turbulence  and  im- 
patience, were  heard  outside.  The  family  within  immediately 
started  up,  and  dressed  themselves  as  hurriedly  as  they  could. 
Rose,  probably  from  a  peculiar  instinct  of  personal  apprehen- 
sion, was  the  first  dressed,  and,  guided  by  that  instinct,  she 
immediately  hid  herself  under  a  bed. 

"Something  tells  me,"  she  said,  pale  with  consternation, 
"that  this  unlawful  visit  is  made  on  my  account,  and  that 
Lucas  is  at  the  head  of  it ;  but  I  will  hide,"  she  added,  "  and 
if  it  is  me  they  want,  say  that  I  went  to  my  aunt's  in  Dun- 
dalk,  to  spend  a  week  or  a  fortnight  with  her." 

She  accordingly  concealed  herself  under  the  bed,  the  only 
place  of  concealment  which  the  house  afforded.  The  other 
members  of  the  family  were  in  a  dreadful  state  of  terror 
They  knew  at  once  that  those  who  were  so  violently  and  so 
vociferously  demanding  admittance  were  not  the  robbers  by 
whom  the  country  was  then  infested.  The  clang  and  jingling 
of  their  arms  left  no  doubt  of  their  being  a  military  party  ;  but, 
as  Calliiii  and  his  family  were  unconscious  of  having  given  any 
offense  either  to  the  law  or  government,  so  were  they  com- 
pletely perplexed  as  to  the  cause  of  such  an  outrage  Not 
that  such  scenes  were  then  at  all  uncommon — far  from  it  The 
Tory-Hunting,  as  it  was  still  called — as  applied  even  to  the 
Rapparees — was  still  going  on  in  the  country ;  and  many  a 
house  was  thus  surrounded  and  searched  by  night,  either  from 
direct  information  that  the  family  held  concealed  a  Tory  or  a 
Rapparee,  or  from  suspicion  that  they  had  done  so,  and  a  hop* 
that  they  might  find  them  there. 

At  length,  a  rather  hoarse,  stern  voice  said  outside  : 

"  Open  the  door,  in  the  king's  name.  If  you  do  not,  wt 
will  break  it  in." 

"  What  is  your  business  with  me  cr  mine  ?"  said  Callan, 
from  within  "that  you  come  to  my  peaceful  hoise  at  such  an 


THE    IRISH    RAPPABEE.  81 

treasonable  hoar  of  the  uiglit.  Why  not  come  in  day- 
light?" 

"  That  is  oar  own  affair,  and  not  yours,"  replied  the  same 
ruffian  voice  ;  "  bat  if  you  wish  to  hear  it,  be  it  known  to  you 
that  we  are  come  in  search  of  a  Rapparee,  called  Patchy  Hoc- 
each,  and  we  know  him  to  be  now  with  you.  He  is  a  setter 
for  the  Rapparees,  and  goes  about  as  a  lame  beggar.  Open 
at  once,  before  we  break  in  the  door.  You  know  now  that 
we  are  upon  the  king's  business ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  gave 
the  door  a  heavy  knock  with  the  but-end  of  his  carbine. 

Callan,  now  perceiving  that  he  had  no  alternative  than  that 
of  yielding  to  their  threats,  opened  the  door,  and  admitted 
them.  A  candle  was  lit,  and  about  a  dozen  men,  in  military 
uniform,  at  once  entered  the  house,  and  after  looking  sharply 
about  them,  again  demanded  where  the  setter  for  the  Rappa* 
rees  was? 

"  You  may  believe  me,  as  an  honest  man/'  replied  Callan, 
"  that  the  person  you  want  isn't  nndher  this  roof.  If  he  was, 
you  would  see  him,  for  there's  no  place  here  where  he  could 
»xide." 

"That  is  more  than  we  know,"  returned  their  leader,  a 
•tern,  ruffianly-looking  man,  about  forty-five  years  of  age  ; 
"  but,  in  the  meantime,  we  will  search." 

They  accordingly  commenced  the  search,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes pulled  poor  Rose,  now  less  alarmed  than  she  had  been, 
from  under  the  bed.  Having  heard  that  they  were  in  pursuit 
of  the  Baccach — a  circumstance  very  probable  in  the  times  of 
which  we  write— Rose  felt  considerably  relieved,  and  contrived 
to  say  in  a  whisper  to  her  mother,  that  there  was  no  necessity 
for  alarm  on  her  account,  and  requested  her  not  to  make  her- 
•elf  at  all  uneasy. 

"  As  for  Patchy  Baccach,"  said  the  leader,  "  it's  a  deaf 
that  you  hav«  deceived  us,  and  allowed  him  to  escap* 


•4  BBOMOND    COCKT   o'HANLOX, 

As  it  is,  we  most  take  this  girl  away  with  us  until,  jou  pro 
dace  him.  Such  are  our  orders,  and  such  is  the  law." 

"  Is  it  to  drag  my  daughter  out,  from  undher  her  father's 
roof,  in  the  clouds  of  the  night  ?"  replied  Callan,  "  an  inno- 
cent child,  that  never  gave  offense  to  a  human  being.  Surely, 
you  have  no  king's  authority  for  such  an  outrage  as  this — 
such  a  cowardly  and  unmanly  outrage  ?" 

"  You  had  better  keep  a  mannerly  tongue  hi  your  head," 
replied  the  leader,  whose  name  was  Stinson ;  "  otherwise  it 
may  be  worse  for  you." 

"  I  don't  mane  to  offend  you,  sir,"  replied  Callan.  "  I  know 
what  the  law  is  about  Rapparees,  sure  enough  ;  but  then,  that 
is  only  hi  cases  where  the  Rapparee  or  Tory  is  a  relation  of 
the  family ;  but  here  there  is  nothing  to  justify  your  conduct, 
because  I  take  God  to  witness  that  there  is  neither  Tory  nor 
Rapparee  related,  either  by  blood  or  marriage,  to  me,  or  any 
one  belongiu'  to  me.  Don't,  then,  drag  my  innoffensive  child 
from  the  protection  of  her  family.  Maybe  you  are  a  father 
yourself,  and  if  you  are,  think — oh,  think  of  what  you'd  feel 
to  see  a  daughter  of  your  own  torn  from  your  arms  and  from 
your  heart ;  think  of  this,  sir,  and  have  mercy  on  us."  And 
as  he  spoke,  the  bitter  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

"  It  is  out  of  my  power,  replied  the  man,  quite  unmoved ;  I 
have  my  orders,  and  I  must  obey  them — let  the  young  woman 
prepare  to  come  along." 

"  Oh !  no,  sir,"  replied  her  mother,  hi  accents  of  the  most 
heart-rending  entreaty,  whilst  the  tears  gushed  from  her  eyes, 
"  Oh  1  no ;  for  the  sake  of  the  livin'  God,  no !  Oh,  if  you 
bave  a  wife,  sir,  or  a  daughter  like  her,  as  her  father  said  to 
you,  think  how  you'd  feel  if  you  saw  that  darlin'  and  beloved 
daughter  torn  away  from  her  mother's  arms  at  such  an  hour 
of  the  night,  and  by  strange  men — a  girl  that  never  in  her 
lift  gave  offense  to  man,  woman,  or  child.  Oh !  have  cou> 


THE  IRISH    R1PPAREI.  25 

passion  upon  us,  sir ;  for,  great  God  !  she  is  oar  only  daugh- 
ter." 

The  stern  miscreant,  the  instrument  of  a  baser  and  fur  more 
dishonorable  man,  merely  returned  the  same  reply  as  before ; 
when  Rose,  now  in  her  mother's  arms,  said  : 

"I  know,  my  dear  mother,  who  the  villain  is  that  is  at 
the  bottom  of  this  ;  but  don't  fear  for  me.  I  have  but  one 
life,  and  sooner  than  come  to  shame,  I  will  lose  it.  /  am  pre- 
pared." 

"  If  one  of  the  family  is  to  go,"  said  her  father,  still  in  tears, 
"oh,  take  me,  and  leave  our  child  to  the  mother  that  lores  her 
better  than  her  own  life  I  am  ready  to  go  with  you — och, 
do  then  take  me,  and  leave  the  girl  behind." 

"  No,  but  take  me,"  added  the  mother,  clasping  her  hands 
in  a  state  of  the  wildest  distraction — "  take  me,  and  leave  our 
darlin'  to  the  ould  man,  who  will  break  his  heart  if  she  is  sep- 
arated from  him." 

''  Not  if  he  leaves  her  safe  with  you — safe  in  her  own  fam- 
ily," said  her  father,  turning  to  his  wife  ;  "that's  all  I  ask 
And  surely  if  you  have  a  heart  in  your  body,"  he  added,  ad- 
dressing the  leader,  "  a  sowl  to  be  saved,  and  a  belief  that  God 
is  above  you,  and  that  you  must  account  to  Him  for  this  black 
outrage,  yon  will  spare  her  to  her  mother,  and  take  me  in  her 
place." 

"  I  will  take  neither  of  you,"  said  the  mau,  "  in  the  absence 
of  the  Rapparee  setter.  She  must  come ;  for  such  are  my 
orders.  If  I  was  to  consult  my  own  will,"  he  added,  some- 
what softened,  "I  would  leave  the  young  woman  with  you  j 
but  that  is  out  of  the  question.  Prepare  yourself,  my  girl — 
yon  must  come  with  us  ;  and  you  need  not  be  at  all  afraid— 
there  will  be  no  harm  done  to  you  :  so  far  from  that,  you  will 
be  soon  glad  that  we  brought  you  to  good  fortune." 

"Stop  there,"  proceeded  her  mother  j  "I  cannot  see  thi*— 


26  BKDMOND  COUXT  o'HAKlOJC, 

I  will  not  see  my  child  destroyed  when  I  can  prevent  It 
Leave  her  with  us,  and  we  will  give  you  up  the  Baccach? 

"  Where  is  he  ?"  said  the  sergeant. 

"  He's  in  the  barn,"  she  replied,  "  where  the  boys  always 
deep." 

"Go  and  arrest  him  forthwith,"  said  Stinson,  addressing 
three  or  four  of  the  men  ;  "  but  bring  him  with  you  by  a  dif 
ferent  direction — you  understand  1  He  musn't  cross  our  path  ; 
for  we  know  him.  He  hasn't  Sarsfield  at  his  back,  now." 

The  barn  hi  which  the  Baccach  slept  had,  as  most  such 
buildings  have,  two  doors,  for  the  purpose  of  winnowing  corn, 
by  the  strong  draught  of  wind  which  they  occasion.  It  is  not 
to  be  supposed  that  the  noise  and  tumult  about  the  house,  and 
the  rattling  of  their  arms,  did  not  arouse  and  startle  the  in- 
mates of  the  out-house.  They  were,  in  fact,  awakened  and 
alarmed,  and  hi  an  instant  the  Baccach  was  up,  and  in  the  act 
of  dressing  himself  with  all  the  expedition  hi  his  power. 

"  I  must  be  off,"  said  he,  throwing  the  straw  upon  which  he 
slept  upon  another  heap  that  lay  in  the  end  of  the  barn  ;  "  say 
I  went  out  early  in  the  night,  and  that  I  wouldn't  tell  yez 
where  I  was  goiu'.  Blessed  man,  but  it's  I  that  could  take 
down  a  couple  o'  the  villains,  and  would,  too,  only  that  it 
would  get  the  roof  of  every  house  belongin'  to  you  burnt  to 
ashes,  and  you  yourselves  shot  maybe,  like  dogs.  But  what  I 

fear  most  about  is  poor "  He  paused,  from  a  reluctance 

to  express  the  suspicions  which  pressed  upon  him,  with  respect 
to  their  sister.  "  Now,"  he  added,  passing  out  of  the  back 
door,  "  I'm  off,  and,  thank  God,  the  night's  dark.  Boult  this 
door,  and  if  they  come  in,  be  sure  to  spake  them  fair  ;  other- 
wise you  may  get  a  dog's  knock.  As  *br  me,  I'm  safe  ;  for 
even  if  they  caught  me  to-night,  I  would  be  at  liberty  to-mor- 
row. I  know  that  if  they  saw  me,  or  met  with  me  to-nigh^ 
they  should  take  me  to  sard  appearances,  and  to  have  an  e» 


THE    IRISH    RAPPABKK.  81 

for  bcin'  out,  if  any  inquiry  should  be  made  ubout  their 
conduct  In  the  meantime,  I  don't  wish  to  meet  them,  bekase 
I  want  to  watch  their  motions,  without  givin'  them  raison  to 
suspect  me.  They  call  me  Baccach  ;  but  divil  a  many  men  in 
the  county  could  cross  a  country  with  me  for  all  that." 

The  truth  is,  that  Patchy's  lameness  was  but  trifling,  and 
such  as  impeded  his  activity  and  speed  only  in  a  very  slight 
degree.  Lame,  however,  he  was,  and  that  fact  was  sufficient 
to  fasten  the  nick-name  upon  him. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  when  the  troopers  came  to 
search  the  barn,  they  found  that  the  hare  had  flown,  nor  did 
this  fact  give  them  any  uneasiness,  inasmuch  as  his  capture 
was  merely  secondary  to  the  great  object  of  their  visit. 

"  The  scoundrel  has  disappeared,"  said  the  men  on  their  re* 
turn  from  the  barn  ;  "  but  as  he  must  have  been  aided  and 
abetted  in  his  flight  by  this  man's  sons,  we  are,  of  course, 
bound  to  take  away  the  young  woman,  and  keep  her  in  close 
imprisonment  until  he  is  produced." 

"  Such  are  our  orders,"  replied  Stinson  ;  "  and  you  all  know 
that  there  is  no  discretion  allowed  to  us  in  their  execution. 
Come,  young  woman  1"  he  added,  addressing  Rose,  and  at  the 
same  time  laying  his  hand — gently,  however — upon  her  shoal* 
der,  "  you  must  accompany  us,  and  that  without  delay." 

The  wail  and  sorrow  of  the  parents  and  of  the  two  servant 
maids  cannot  be  described.  Both  parents  clung  to  her,  threw 
their  arms  around  her,  and  their  grief  was  less  the  grief  of  or- 
dinary sorrow  than  that  of  wild  and  hopeless  despair.  They 
had  heard  of  these  matters  before,  when  the  relatives  of  pro- 
claimed Tories  and  Rapparees  were  held  responsible  for  their 
appearance,  under  the  penalty  of  transportation  itself;  bat 
lever  yet  had  they  heard  of  or  known  a  case  where  an  unof- 
fending female,  or  a  female  at  all,  had  been  held  accountable 
trr  their  capture  or  punished  for  their  escape.  Here  the 


BKOMOHD   COUNT 

did  not  tally.  There  was  no  parallel  between  them  As  tht 
father  said,  there  was  neither  Rapparee  nor  Tory  connected 
with  their  family ;  and  npon  what  principle,  or  with  what 
object,  then*  daughter  should  be  dragged  away  from  them  in  a 
spirit  of  such  savage  and  licentious  outrage,  was  a  mystery 
which  they  could  not  fathom.  The  scene  of  separation  was, 
indeed,  a  terrible  one.  It  required  both  strength  and  violence 
to  tear  the  parents  from  their  child.  As  for  Rose  herself, 
although  distracted  and  stunned  by  this  sudden  and  unwonteu 
violence,  she  was  firm,  and  did  everything  in  her  power  to  con- 
sole her  bereaved  parents.  In  fact,  she  felt  not  terror  so  much 
as  resentment  at  this  atrocious  and  cowardly  outrage  upon  the 
peace  and  happiness  of  a  family  who  had  kept  themselves  alooi 
from  the  political  convulsions  of  the  times,  and  had,  conse- 
quently, every  claim  to  protection  from  the  law.  Her  cheek 
mantled,  and  her  eye  flashed  with  indignation,  but  she  knew 
that  resistance  and  entreaty  were  both  in  vain,  and,  turning  to 
her  parents,  she  said,  as  she  adjusted  her  cloak  about  her  shoul- 
ders, addressing  them : 

"You  both  forget — we  all  forget — that  there  is  a  God 
above  us,  who  can  protect  the  innocent.  Think  of  this,  and 
take  your  daughter's  word  for  it,  that  no  man  shall  ever  bring 
me  to  either  guilt  or  shame  while  I  have  life  in  my  body ; 
but,  in  the  meantime,  I  trost  in  the  protection  of  the  Al- 
mighty, who,  should  all  human  aid  fail,  is  able  to  protect  me 
When  you  see  Con  M'Mahon,  tell  him  not  to  fear  me  ;  I  will 
either  live  or  die  his :  and  I  am  sure  that  both  he  and  you 
will  do  everything  in  your  power  to  take  me  out  of  danger. 
In  the  meantime,  don't  be  afraid ;  trust  to  God,  and  the  inten- 
tion that  is  in  my  own  heart,  should  everything  else  fail  me." 

After  one  last  heart-rending  embrace  they  were  then  sepa- 
rated ;  and  indeed  it  was  evident  from  the  silence  and  appar- 
ent reluctance  even  of  those  hardened  veterans,  that  the  task 


THI    HUSH    EAPPAMCB.  ft 

which  had  been  committed  them  was  one  from  which  their  rery 
hearts  revolted.  Their  leader,  Stinson,  took  no  personal  part 
in  the  separation  of  Rose  from  her  parents.  On  the  contrary, 
his  tough  and  indurated  heart  seemed  to  have  been  moved  by 
what  had  taken  place  before  him,  and  his  deportment,  at  first 
rough  and  surly,  changed  by  degrees  into  a  mood  that  In-to- 
kened a  sympathy  which  the  nature  of  his  duty  rendered  it 
impossible,  if  not  unsafe,  for  him  either  to  exhibit  by  his  man- 
ner, or  to  express  in  words.  At  all  events,  she  was  placed 
behind  Stinson,  who,  in  order  to  prevent  her  brothers  or  any 
of  the  family  from  dogging  them  on  their  way,  placed  a  guard 
both  upon  the  dwelling-house  and  the  out-houses,  who  remained 
at  their  posts  until  all  hope  of  discovering  the  route  they  had 
taken  became  utterly  impossible,  after  which  they  took  their 
way,  and  disappeared  about  a  couple  of  hours  before  morn- 
ing. 

It  is  utterly  impossible  to  describe  the  grief  and  distraction 
of  her  miserable  parents  and  family  on  that  woful  and  un- 
happy night.  After  their  feelings,  however,  had  somewhat 
subsided,  or,  we  should  rather  say,  when  their  very  hearts  had 
become  broken  down  and  exhausted,  her  mother  said,  address* 
ing  her  husband  and  the  rest : 

"  Come,  Brian,  and  all  of  you,  our  tears  can  do  our  darlin' 
little  good  ;  think  of  her  own  blessed  words — trust  in  the  Al- 
mighty. Since  we  cannot  help  her,  then,  any  way  else,  let  ni 
pray  to  that  Almighty  for  her,  and  implore  Him  to  protect 
her  innocence  and  her  goodness  from  the  snares  that  her  ero- 
naie8  may  lay  for  her,  and  to  entreat  that  He  may  break  down 
their  power  over  her,  and  disappoint  their  evil  designs  against 
her  ;  for,  poor  girl,  she  has  nobody  now  but  that  Alraigbtv  to 
protect  her." 

They  then  knelt  down  to  pray  for  her  safety  and  present 
lion  from  all  evil ;  and,  as  they  offered  up  those  heart-felt  and 


10  MDMOND   COUKT   o'ttAJCLOW, 

agonizing  prayers,  it  was  pitiable  to  hear  the  deep  grow* 
and  irrepressible  sobs  by  whic  n  they  were  accompanied.  To- 
ward morning,  when  the  guards  that  had  been  left  by  Stln- 
son,  for  the  purposes  already  mentioned,  had  taken  then-  de 
partnre,  her  brothers  made  their  appearance  in  the  house,  and 
on  hearing  that  their  sister  was  violently  carried  away,  under  cir- 
cumstances so  unaccountable  and  suspicious,  their  hearts  were 
at  once  rent  by  grief,  apprehension,  and  indignation.  What, 
however,  could  the  poor  boys  do?  Indignation  was  vain, 
grief  was  vain,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  await  the  return 
of  morning,  in  order  to  take  such  steps  as  might  be  deemed 
most  effectual  for  her  recovery. 

About  nine  or  ten  o'clock  the  next  day,  the  melancholy 
account  of  this  daring  and  outrageous  abduction  had  gone 
abroad  through  the  whole  parish.  The  consternation,  we  need 
scarcely  say,  was  general,  and  the  sympathy  felt  for  this  peace- 
ful and  unhappy  family  at  once  profound  and  active.  Their 
neighbors,  friends,  and  acquaintances,  all  offered  their  services; 
but,  alas,  what  could  be  done  ?  They  had  no  trace  of  her,  and 
nothing  to  guide  them  but  the  fact  that  she  had  been  taken 
away  by  a  military  party,  in  consequence,  as  had  been  stated 
by  the  leader  of  that  party,  of  their  having  sheltered  Patchy 
Baccach,  whom  they  denounced  as  a  setter  for  the  Rappareea, 
and  that  she  must  be  detained  a  prisoner  until  Patchy  should 
be  given  up  to  them.  Whether  Patchy  was  a  setter  for  the 
Rapparees  or  not,  none  of  them  could  tell ;  but  there  were 
persons  among  them  who  hinted  that,  if  Patchy  was  a  setter 
for  anybody,  it  was  much  more  likely  that  he  was  a  setter  foi 
the  military  against  the  Rapparees  ;  for  that  it  was  well 
known  he  had  been  seen  prettv  frequently  about  the  Armagh 
barracks  drinking  and  carousing  with  the  soldiers.  This  cer- 
tainly looked  suspicious,  especially  when  his  visit  to  the  house 
of  Brian  Callan  was  connected  with  that  of  the  military  upo* 


THE    IRISH    KAFFABKB.  12 

the  same  night.     Others,  howerer,  defended  the  Baccach,  and 
•aid  it  was  well  known  that  he  conld  deceive  a  saint. 

"  He  goes  among  ,he  sogere,"  they  said,  "  to  drink  wid 
them,  and  then  to  pick  oat  o'  them  where  they've  got  ordhers 
to  go  next  to  take  the  Rapparees  ;  and  then  he  goes  and  puts 
the  Rapparees  on  their  guard — gives  them  the  hard  word." 

While  discussing  this  point,  which  we  are  not  now  about  tc 
determine,  young  Con  M'Mahon  entered  the  house,  and  imme 
diately  a  pause  occurred  in  the  conversation.  All  eyes  were 
turned  upon  him,  and  many  persons,  in  a  low  voice,  not  in- 
tended for  his  ear,  whispered  :  "  God  pity  him  I  the  Lord  look 
down  on  him  !  but  the  poor  boy  is  to  be  felt  for  this  day,  if 
«ver  a  man  was." 

When  Rose's  lover  entered  his  cheek  was  pale,  but  his  eyes 
blazing.  "  What,"  said  he,  "  what  has  happened  ?  Can  what 
•'ve  heard  be  true  ?  Is  Rose  gone  ?  " 

Her  father  seized  his  hand,  and  replied,  with  an  emotion 
which  almost  deprived  him  of  the  power  of  utterance  : 

"  She  is  gone,  Con,  she  is  gone ;  but  where,  for  the  pres- 
ent, we  cannot  telL  She  was  taken  away  by  the  sogerg, 
ind  that's  all  we  know  about  it ;  but,  ahagnr,  there  is  no 
time  to  be  lost.  We  must  all  set  out  and  try  to  find  some 
account  of  her.  What  do  you  intend  to  do  ?  " 

The  young  man  paused,  but  on  hearing  the  fact  of  her  ab- 
duction confirmed,  like  her  father,  he  was  unable  for  some 
time  to  make  any  reply.     A  hot  tear  or  two  started  to  hit 
(<>ye,  but  he  dashed  them  off,  and  seemed  for  a  moment  the 
I  very  impersonation  of  rengeance.     After  a  little,  however, 
as  if  conscious  of  the  necessity  of  coolness,  he  made  no 
effort  to  become  calm,  and  to  a  certain  extent  succeeded. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  tell  me  all ;  tell  me  every  word  they 
•id,  and  every  thing  that  happened  last  night." 

This  the  father  did  ;   and  when  M'Mahon  had  heard  it  all 


BSDMOND  COTOT 

be  said,  with  another  blaze  of  indignation ;  '  Come,  Briaa 
Callan,  come  with  me  to  Armagh  barracks.  I  think  I  know 
the  villain  that  is  at  the  bottom  of  this.  Come,  you  and  I 
only  ;  who  has  such  a  right  as  her  father,  and  the  man  that  u 
betrothed  to  her  ?  We  must  find  her,  I  tell  you — or  if  not, 
all  the  law  in  Europe — no,  nor  all  the  soldiers  in  Europe, 
won't  save  him  from  my  vengeance.  What  is  my  life  if  she 
is  gone  !  Nothing.  I  don't  value  it  at  one  grain  of  chaff. 
Come,  let  us  start." 

"  This  is  too  much  outspoken,  Con,"  said  her  father.  Don't 
talk  as  you  do  ;  you  ought  to  know  the  enemies  you  may 
make  by  such  language.  I  am  sure  the  magistrates  of  the 
neighborhood  won't  overlook  this  outrage  upon  a  peaceable 
and  loyal  subject.  Let  us  apply  to  them,  then,  and  I'm  iu 
hopes  that  they'll  assist  us,  as  it  is  their  duty  to  do,  and  to 
throw  light  upon  the  misery  that  b&s  come  upon  us." 

"  I  hope  they  will,"  replied  M'Mabcu  ;  "  there  are  many  of 
them  good  men  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  many  of  them  perse- 
cutors. But,  in  the  manetime,  come  with  me  straight  to  Ar 
magh,  to  find  out  there  whether  any  of  the  men  have  been 
abroad  npon  duty  last  night." 

"  Very  well,  replied  her  father  "  In  the  name  of  God,  let 
ns  go." 

M'Mahon  had  come  well  mounted  upon  a  stout  horse  to  the 
bouse  of  his  intended  father-in-law,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
old  man  was  in  the  saddle,  and  both  set  out  for  Armagh  bar- 
racks. They  reached  there  iu  a  few  honrs,  and,  as  M'Mahon'i 
object  was  to  see  the  Colonel  of  the  regiment  in  which  Luca* 
held  his  commission,  they  soou  succeeded  in  procuring  ah  inter 
veiw  with  tha*  gallant  gentleman.  His  age  wat>  about  sixty 
and  his  appearance  that  of  a  mild  and  benevolent  man,  as  in 
fact  he  was,  If  he  had  a  fault  ci  all  as  a  military  officer,  it 
»*s  an  pxees?  of  indulgence  to  his  subordinates  whom  he  over- 


THE  IRISH    RAPPAREt.  55 

fooked  iu  many  escapades,  which,  as  they  were  not  exactly 
connected  with  any  breach  of  discipline  or  duty,  and  as  peace 
now  prevailed  over  the  country,  he  looked  npon  them  with 
rather  a  lenient  eye.  Notwithstanding  this  good-humored 
connivance  at  small  offenses — which  could  scarcely  be  termed 
anything  more,  as  ihey  related  to  the  profession,  than  semi- 
official at  the  mist — yet  was  he  known  to  be  both  stern  and 
severe  whenever  any  deliberate  violation  of  duty  was  com- 
mitted He  was  a  bachelor,  and  lived  in  a  private  house  near 
the  barracks  :  but  as  soon  as  he  understood  that  Callan  and 
M'Mahon  wished  to  see  him,  they  were  immediately  ad- 
mitted. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  when  they  entered,  "  what  is  the  matter  T 
Have  these  d — d  Rapparees  been  with  you  ?  Confound  the 
scoundrels,  they  are  harassing  us  to  death  in  pursuit  of  them, 
but  to  no  purpose.  There  is  scarcely  a  day  that  we  have 
not  a  party  out  after  them  ;  and  after  all,  we  return  as  we 
went— no,  faith,  not  as  we  went,  but  my  men  jaded  and  fa- 
tigued to  death.  I  suppose  you  have  been  robbed  ?" 

44  I  have,  sir,''  replied  Callan,  "  but  not  by  the  Rappareea." 

44  How  is  that  ?" 

44  On  last  night  a  party  of  soldiers  came  to  my  house,  in  the 
middle  of  the  night,  and  took  away  mv  only  daughter,  by  force 
and  violence.1' 

44  By  force  and  violence  1"  he  exclaimed,  starting — 44  a  party 
of  military  take  away  your  daughter  by  force  and  violence — 
Inpi  esible  ;  and  in  the  king's  name,  too — more  impossible 
still." 

44  It's  truth,  yonr  honor, — too  true  it  is,  God  help  me  ;  and, 
what  is  more,  we  don't  know  where  she  is,  nor  where  they 
brought  her  to." 

The  Colonel  looked  at  the  old  mar  with  astonishment,  bat 
at  once  perceived  by  his  tears,  and  the  deep  affliction  witk 


34  REDMOND   COUNT  0?HANL01f 

which  he  spoke,  that  some  gross  or  unusual  outrage  had  beei 
committed. 

"  Why,  this,"  he  said,  "  would  seem  almost  incredible.  Are 
yon  certain,  poor  man,  that  it  was  not  the  Rapparees  who 
took  her  ?" 

"  Quite  certain,  sir  ;  they  were  troopers,  in  uniform,  about 
a  dozen  or  more  of  them.  As  for  the  Rapparees,  it  is  a  rule 
among  them  never  to  injure  any  woman,  whether  rich  or  poor, 
but  rather  to  protect  them.  Their  Captain  would  not  allow 
it." 

"Ah  !  that  Captain,"  exclaimed  the  other.  "  D — n  the 
rascal ;  many  a  long  and  fruitless  chase  he  has  led  my  poor 
fellows :  however,  we  shall  have  him  yet.  In  the  meantime, 
tell  me  all  about  this  business  ;  for,  as  it  stands,  I  can  make 
nothing  of  it." 

The  old  man  then  related  at  full  length,  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  outrage,  precisely  as  the  reader  is  acquainted 
with  them.  When  the  Colonel  heafd  him  to  the  close,  he 
paused  for  some  time,  but  at  length  said* 

"I  am  not  surprised  at  your  afflietk*;,  poor  man.  Thai 
law  against  Rapparees  and  Tories  has  not  been  acted  on  for 
some  years.  You  say  the  lame  rebel  is  uot  related  to  yon ; 
and,  in  that  case,  I  don't  see  why  either  you  or  yours  should 
be  held  responsible  for  him." 

"  He  is  only  a  poor  Baccach,  your  honor,  who  goes  about 
begging  from  house  to  house  for  his  bit — God  help  him!" 

"  Sir,"  said  M'Mahon,  who  now  spoke  for  the  first  time, 
"  we  came  to  you  in  ordher  to  know  whether  there  was  ary 
party  of  your  men  out  last  night ;  and  we  say,  too,  with  too 
much  truth,  I'm  afraid,  that  we  have  raison  for  suspectin'  one 
of  your  own  officers  for  beiu'  at  the  bottom  of  this  villainy  ; 
tnd  if  we  find  that  he  is,  by  the  eter " 

The  old  man  put  his  hand  upon  his  mouth  before  he  could 


THB    IRISH    BAPPABKB  85 

complete  the  oath.  "  COD,  for  God's  sake,  will  you  keep 
yourself  quiet  in  his  honor's  presence.  This  young  man,  sir," 
he  added,  addressing  the  Colonel,  "  has  a  right  to  feel  as  much 
as  any  one  livin'  on  this  subject  He  and  my  daughter  were 
to  be  married  in  a  couple  of  weekH  " 

"  The  officer's  name  I  spake  of,  sir,"  persisted  M'Mahon,  but 
somewhat  more  calmly,  "  is  Lucas  ;  and  we  know  that  he 
tried  to  break  down  her  virtue  by  a  falsehood,  and  attempts 
at  bribery,  until  he  was  near  gettin'  himself  stabbed  to  the 
heart  by  her  for  his  pains.  You'll  find,  sir,  upon  inquiry,  that 
the  profligate  had  a  party  of  your  men  out  last  night,  and  uu- 
dher  false  pretenses,  too." 

Colonel  Caterson — for  such  was  his  name — appeared  at 
once  to  have  been  seriously  impressed  by  the  words  which 
M'Mahon  had  just  uttered.  A  new  light  seemed  to  break  in 
upon  him  ;  and  after  reflecting  in  silence  for  a  little,  he  at 
length  said  : 

"  Come,  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  barracks  as  you  came  in  ; 
et  us  go  there.  I  shall  inquire  into  this  matter,  and  strictly, 
too." 

On  his  arrival  there,  he  immediately  instituted  the  necessavr 
inquiries,  and  especially  whether  Cornet  Lucas  had  been  out 
with  any  military  party  on  the  preceding  night,  to  which  he 
was  answered  directly  and  solemnly  in  the  negative.  Comet 
Lucas  himself,  upon  being  sent  for,  appeared,  and  assured  him 
upon  his  honor  that  he  had  not  left  his  room  during  the 
whole  night,  as  he  could  prove  by  several  witnesses — which  he 
did  do— and,  in  fact,  the  unsuspecting  Colonel  discovered  that 
not  one  of  his  men  had  been  out  beyond  the  hour  usually  ap- 
pointed for  their  return  to  barracks. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  addressing  Callan  and  M'Mahon,  "  you 
•ee  I  have  made  every  necessary  inquiry  as  to  the  cause  of 
jour  trouble  and  suspicions.  It  is  quite  certain  that  cc  men 


86  REDMOND    COUNT   o'HANLOX, 

from  these  barracks  were  at  your  house  last  night,  nor  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  outrage  committed  against  your 
daughter  and  your  family." 

This  intelligence  was  anything  but  agreeable  ;  and  young 
M'Mahoi,  though  forced  to  rest  satisfied  with  it,  maintained 
his  opinion  that  the  good-natured  Colonel  was  imposed  upon, 
and  that  Lucas  had  contrived  to  effect  the  abduction  without  Ins 
knowledge.  This,  indeed,  was  a  very  natural  suspicion,  if  we 
reflect  upon  the  loose  and  neglected  state  of  discipline  which 
prevailed  in  the  British  army  at  that  period.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  Callan  and  he  were  obliged  to  return  home  in  such  a 
state  of  sorrow  and  disappointment  as  may  easily  be  conceived 
by  our  readers. 

In  the  meantime,  every  effort  was  made  for  the  recovery  of 
the  fair  Rose  of  Lisbuy.  Parties  were  out  in  all  directions. 
The  whole  neighborhood — the  whole  parish — was  canvassed 
and  searched,  but  with  the  same  melancholy  result.  Neither 
trace  nor  tidings  of  her  could  be  found.-  The  grief  of  her  par- 
ents and  family  was  excessive — terrible  ;  and  as  for  young 
M'Mahon,  he  was  in  a  state  of  such  absolute  distraction,  that 
his  friends  began  to  fear  his  reason  would  utterly  abandon 
him.  He  could  not  rest — he  could  not  partake  of  his  ordi- 
nary meals  ;  but  kept  riding  about  from  place  to  place  in  such 
a  state  of  despair  and  apparent  insanity,  that  he  became  the 
subject  of  general  compassion. 

On  the  uight  after  the  outrage,  about  (he  hour  of  eleven 
o'clock,  he  was  on  his  return  from  one  of  those  hopeless  exeur 
sions,  when  he  found  himself  challenged  in  a  part  of  the  ro:id 
that  was  peculiarly  solitary  and  lonely.  Three  men  on  horse- 
back approached  him,  and  one  of  them,  in  a  full,  rich,  an  1  m»l 
low  voice,  after  commanding  him  to  stand,  said  : 

"Sir,  deliver  your  purse  at  the  peril  of  your  life.' 

"Ah  1"  replied  M'Mahon,  "  there  are  three  to  one  again*! 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREK.  ft 

•e  ;  otherwise  you  should  not  have  it  without  a  struggle — 
nor  even  as  it  is,  but  that  I  am  unarmed  " 

"  Come,"  said  the  man  who  spoke,  addressing  the  rest,  "  thia 
fellow  has  spunk  in  him  :  here,  take  my  pistols  and  cutlass, 
and  retire,  and  by  no  means  interrupt  us.  I  will  either  teach 
the  gentleman  a  lesson,  or  will  learn  one  from  him.  Alight, 
sir  !  I  am  now  unarmed  as  you  are,  and  if  you  prove  yourself 
able  to  retain  your  purse,  why,  well  and  good — it  shall  be  safe  ; 
hut  if  not,  you  must  go  home  without  it." 

"  It  is  a  fair  offer,"  replied  M'Mahon,  alighting,  and  I  will- 
ingly accept  it.  Take  it,  then,  if'you  can." 

Now,  before  we  proceed  farther  in  the  history  of  this  ex- 
ploit, we  beg  to  inform  our  readers  that  young  Con  M'Mahon 
was  one  of  the  stoutest,  most  active,  and  courageous  young 
fellows  in  the  barony.  In  fact,  there  was  no  man  in  it  who, 
In  a  personal  contest,  had  any  chance  with  him  ;  and,  besides, 
on  this  occasion,  the  loss  of  Rose  Callan,  and  her  mysterious 
abduction,  had  made  him  altogether  desperate.  At  all  events, 
the  highwayman  and  he  met,  and  in  less  than  half  a  minute 
he  felt  himself,  without  receiving  a  single  blow,  stretched  upon 
the  road,  the  knees  of  the  highwayman  upon  his  body,  and  hit 
throat  within  a  gripe  that  he  felt  to  be  herculean. 

"  Do  not  strangle  me,"  said  M'Mahon  ;  "  take  my  purse, 
and  let  me  up." 

"  No,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  I  will  not  take  your  purse — I 
aever  took  a  purse  in  my  life  ;  I  always  receive  them  with  the 
coasent  of  the  donor.  There  now,"  he  added,  rising,  "  put 
your  hand  in  your  pocket,  take  out  your  purse,  and  hand  it 
to  me  like  a  gentleman,  saying :  '  Sir,  I  present  you  with  thin, 
and  I  thank  you  for  your  forbearance.' " 

"  Here  is  my  purse,"  replied  M'Mahon,  "and  J  mus".  say, 
you  deserve  it ;  for  he  is  no  common  man  who  could  have  taken 
It  as  you  did,  and  from  me,  too.  It  is  nut,  however,  my 


88  BKDMONO  COUNT  O'HANLON, 

parse  that  is  troubling  me  ;  what  is  ten  pound*  to  me,  or  tea 
thousand,  in  the  affliction  that  is  over  me  ?" 

"Why,"  asked  the  highwayman,  "what  affliction  is  over 
you?" 

M'Mahou  then  related,  with  an  emotion  which  he  could  not 
restrain,  the  calamity  which  befell  his  betrothed,  under  circum 
•tances  of  such  unprecedented  outrage  ;  at  the  same  time, 
•wearing  solemnly,  that  if  Lucas  proved  to  be  the  man,  he 
would  deliberately  shoot  him  dead. 

"  Ha  !"  exclaimed  the  highwayman,  "  and  so  you  suspect 
Lucas  ;  but  there  you  are  wrong.  I  have  reason  to  know  that 
Lucas  is  not  the  man  ;  however,  the  thing  must  be  looked  to. 
Stay  where  you  are  for  a  few  minutes  ;  but,  I  beg  your  pardon, 
you  have  not  told  me  your  name." 

M'Mahou  then  gave  him  a  brief  account  of  his  name  and 
family,  after  which,  the  highwayman  paused  for  some  time,  and, 
having  again  desired  him  to  keep  his  place  for  a  little,  ha 
joined  his  companions,  with  whom  he  entered  into  consultation 
for  a  few  minutes,  after  which  they  all  returned  and  joined  him. 

"  Now,  M'Mahon,"  said  the  Rapparee,  it  so  happens  that  1 
know  your  family  well.  There  was  a  day  'when  they  weie 
staunch  friends  to  their  unfortunate  country,  and  sealed  their 
affection  for  it  with  their  blood." 

"  And  would  do  so  still,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  if  the 
occasion  offered." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  but  the  times  are 
now  changed,  and,  perhaps,  so  much  the  better.  It  is  mad 
ness  to  continue  a  losing  and  a  hopeless  game.  I  now  return 
you  your  purse  precisely  as  I  received  it  from  you.  It  is  not 
upon  you,  or  such  as  you,  that  I  wish  to  exercise  my  office  ; 
but  upon  those  who  are  enemies  to  the  liberty  of  my  country. 
I  like  the  courage  with  which  you  would  have  defended  your 
property." 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARU.  8S 

"  I  thought ,"  replied  M'Mahon,  "  that  there  was  bat  on« 
man  who,  upoi  equal  ground,  could  have  taken  it  from  me." 

"  And  it  is,  probably,  well  for  you  that  that  man  is  not  here, 
or,  perhaps,  you  would  have  gone  home  with  lighter  pockets. 
In  the  meantime,  I  shall  see  that  man  to  night ;  and,  if  I  po» 
less  any  influence  over  him — as  I  think  I  do — it  will  go  hard 
if  I  don't  prevail  upon  him  to  try  and  restore  the  fair  girl,  to 
whom  you  are  betrothed,  and  perhaps  inflict  some  punishment 
upon  the  villain  who  forced  her  away.  The  law  is  now  all 
upon  one  side,  and  we  must  only  endeavor  to  balance  the  ac- 
count by  availing  ourselves  of  such  opportunities  against  it  as 
may  offer,  or  as  we  can  create  by  our  wit  and  ingenuity.  You 
may  now  go  home  in  safety,  and  perhaps  you  shall  hear  from 
me  ere  long.  If  I  succeed  with  him — of  course,  you  know 
who  I  mean — there  is  a  chance  that  your  promised  bride  may 
be  restored  to  you  sooner  than  you  imagine.  This,  howevev, 
if  effected  at  all,  must  be  upon  the  condition  that  you  keep 
your  adventure  of  this  night  a  profound  secret.  You  know 
the  reward  that  is  offered  for  the  head  of  the  man  we  allud« 
to,  and  you  know  that  spies  are  on  the  watch  for  him  by  night 
and  day.  His  motions  are  consequently  restricted,  and  any- 
thing that  he  may  do  hi  your  business  uust  be  at  the  very  risk 
of  his  life.  Now,  good  night,  and  safe  home  to  yon  !"  And, 
having  uttered  these  words,  he  and  his  party  proceeded  upoo 
tkeir  way 


»0  REDMOND   COUNT   O'HANLOM, 


CHAPTER    III 

AT  the  perbd  of  our  narrative,  there  was  no  such  body  us 
Ireland  as  a  constabulary  or  police  of  any  kind,  either  tc  pro 
ic-rve  the  peace  of  the  country,  or  to  repress  the  local  out 
fages  which  were  continually  breaking  out  in  it.  All  this  duty — 
•nd  a  harassing  one  it  was — devolved  upon  the  country  mag- 
grates  and  private  gentlemen,  aided  by  the  military,  who 
were  called  upon  to  discharge  the  duties  of  our  present  police, 
as  well  as  those  of  soldiers.  At  this  period,  too,  the  country 
«ras  overrun  and  ravaged  by  lawless  bands  of  Rapparees,  and 
tne  still  more  atrocious  body  of  Tories,  the  latter  of  whom 
epared  neither  life  nor  property  in  their  merciless  depredations. 
With  them  religion,  of  which  they  were  as  ignorant  as  the 
unites  about  them,  was  no  safeguard  whatever.  The  Catho- 
lic was  robbed  and  slaughtered  with  as-  little  remorse  as  the 
Protestant,  whilst  among  the  Rapparees,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  was  moderation  and  forbearance — the  great  and  estab- 
lished principle  on  which  they  acted  being,  never  to  shed  blood 
unless  in  defense  of  life,  and  under  no  circumstances  to  injure 
or  maltreat  any  of  the  female  sex,  no  matter  what  their  rank 
or  condition  in  life  might  be.  The  humanity  of  this  regulation, 
however,  was  due  to  the  celebrated  individual  who  drew  up  the 
rules  of  their  conduct,  and  by  whose  skill  and  ability  they  wei  e 
organized  and  commanded.  The  discipline  which  he  estal> 
fished  was  scarcely  ever  violated,  and  whenever  it  happened  to 
be  so,  the  offending  party  was  severely  punished,  and  in  some 
cases  handed  over  to  the  laws  of  the  Jand.  The  reader  may 
think  this  a  strange  and  imprudent  proceeding  on  the  part  of 
the  Rapparees,  as  it  might  be  naturally  apprehended  that  such 
individuals  would,  as  a  matter  of  course,  betray  their  accon> 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREE.  41 

plices  to  the  government,  from  a  principle  of  vengeance  against 
then,  as  well  as  to  secure  their  owi  pardon.  This,  however,  in 
a  mistake  ;  because  the  government  had,  from  day  to  day,  exact 
information  regarding  them,  so  that  very  little  could  be  added 
to  it,  even  by  one  of  themselves.  They  shifted  their  positions 
perpetually,  and  scarcely  ever  remained  twenty-four  hours  in 
the  same  place,  so  that  the  information  of  to-day  was  of  no 
earthly  use  for  to-morrow.  The  government  of  the  day,  be- 
sides, was  rather  imbecile,  and  although  the  Duke  of  Ormond 
issued  many  severe  proclamations  against  them,  containing 
offers  of  large  rewards  for  the  apprehension  of  their  leader,  yet 
for  many  a  long  year  he  could  boast  of  but  very  slender  suc- 
cess. Be  this  as  it  may,  at  the  time  we  write  of,  whatever 
military  forces  lay  in  Ireland  were  scattered  over  the  kingdom 
at  large,  in  order  to  be  able  to  check  the  outrages,  and 
secure  the  depredators  and  murderers,  if  possible,  wherever 
they  appeared.  The  magistrates  and  other  country  gentlemen 
could  not  act  either  rigorously  or  safely  without  their  aid,  and 
hence  their  distribution,  as  we  said,  over  the  general  surface 
of  the  country.  For  this  reason,  then,  it  so  happened,  that  in 
the  few  barracks  that  were  then  to  be  found  in  Ireland,  there 
generally  remained  but  a  small  handful  of  men — just  enough, 
as  was  calculated,  to  preserve  the  peace  of  the  neighborhood. 
The  reader  will  soon  perceive  why  we  allude  to  these  facts, 
which  are  well  known  to  every  reader  of  Irish  history  to  be 
correct  and  authentic. 

When  the  party  who  took  away  Rose  Callan  left  her  fa- 
ther's house,  chey  turned — after  passing  along  the  boreen  which 
led  to  it,  and  on  reaching  the  highway — toward  the  town  or 
city  of  Armagh.  The  poor  girl's  distraction  was  indescriba- 
ble, and  her  grief  such  as  ought  to  have  excitedlcompassioo 
in  any  heart  in  which  lay  a  single  spark  of  humanity.  ID 
deed,  it  touched  that  of  the  man  behind  whom  she  sat. 


«2  REDMO.VD   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

"  Oh,  where,"  she  said,  as  well  as  her  sobbing  would  permit 
her,  "  where,  hi  God's  name,  are  you  bringing  me  ?  Are  you 
ft.  man  ?  Have  you  no  compassion  ?  You  are  a  soldier,  and 
ought  to  be  brave ;  but  surely  no  brave  man  would  suffer  him- 
self to  become  an  instrument  in  such  a  cruel  and  heartless 
outrage  as  this.  Have  you  not  the  Rapparees  and  Tories  to 
pursue  ;  but  what  have  either  I  or  my  family  done  that  we 
should  be  treated  as  rebels  and  robbers  ?  They  are  neither 
Rapparees  nor  Tories,  but  an  innocent  and  inoffensive  people, 
who  conduct  ourselves  peaceably,  and  have  never  done  or  said 
anything  against  the  government  or  the  laws.  As  for  the 
fiaccach,  we  know  nothing  about  him,  except  that  he  says  he 
was  at  the  siege  of  Limerick  ;  but  he  is  not  a  drop's  blood  to 
us,  and  why  should  we  suffer  fer  him  ?  We  only  help  him, 
and  give  him  an  odd  night's  lodging,  like  any  other  poor  man 
that's  forced  to  beg  his  bit." 

"  God  help  you,  my  poor  girl,"  replied  the  man,  considera- 
bly softened,  "it  was  not  for  the  Baccach  we  came.  That 
Baccach's  a  favorite  in  the  barracks — and  if  I  don't  mistake, 
is  a  spy  for  the  government  against  the  Rapparees  and  To- 
ries." 

"  He  may  be  so,"  she  replied,  "  and  the  greater  villain  he 
*  for  it." 

"  How  ?"  said  the  man.  "  Is  it  for  serving  the  government 
of  the  country  ?  That  is  dangerous  talk." 

"  Whether  for  the  government  or  against  it,"  she  replied, 
*•  every  spy  is  a  villain,  and  none  but  a  villain  would  be  a  spy 
for  any  party  ;  but  what  do  /  care  about  that  ?  I  ask  again 
where,  in  God's  name,  are  you  bringing  me  ?" 

"  There  is  no  use  in  telling  you,  my  poor  girl  1  I  and  those 
that  are  with  me  must  do  our  duty." 

"  Duty  1"  she  replied  indignantly.  "  Do  you  ca  1  dragging 
to  unoffending;  girl,  hi  the  clouds  of  the  night,  awaj  from  her 


THE    IRISH    RAH'ARKE.  43 

bmily,  an  act  that  comes  within  the  duty  of  a  soldier  ?  If 
you  be  a  man,  you  ought  to  blush  for  it.  Why,  what  is  the 
conduct  of  a  spy  to  this  ?  For  God's  sake,  let  me  go  home- 
say  I  escaped,  and  that  you  could  not  find  me  iu  the  darkness. 
If  you  do,  and  that  you  come  to  my  father's  house,  he  will  re- 
ward you  well  for  it." 

They  had  been  at  this  time  a  little  in  advance  of  the  rest  of 
the  party,  and  the  dragoon  to  whom  she  spoke  put  his  horse 
to  an  easier  pace,  and  was  about,  as  she  thought,  to  make  some 
reply  to  this  proposal,  when  the  others,  whether  from  accident 
or  design,  trotted  up  and  joined  them. 

"  Sergeant,"  said  one  of  them,  "  what  do  you  stop  for  ?" 

11  Why,  to  get  my  snuff-box,"  he  replied,  "  and  to  have  a 
•inch.  I'm  danged  but  my  nose  is  lost  for  the  want  of  one." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  ruffian,  "  take  it,  and  remember 
that  we  have  a  sharp  look  out  behind  you  here." 

They  then  proceeded,  but  he  continued  gradually  to  advance 
*  little  ahead  of  them,  after  which  Rose  heard  him  say,  as  if 
In  soliloquy  : 

"  No,  no — it  can't  be  done — I  dare  not  risk  it.  My  dear 
girl,"  he  added,  "  do  not  talk  to  me — I  feel  that  it  is  out  of 
my  power  to  assist  you.  All  I  can  say  is,  put  your  trust  in 
God  ;  but  at  the  best  it  is  a  bad  business,  and  I  am  sorry  1 
bad  any  hand  in  it." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  she  replied,  weeping  bitterly,  "  that  that  is 
all  that  is  left  me — but  it  may  be  enough.  I  am  innocent  of 
any  crime,  and  my  faith  in  the  Almighty  is  stronger  than  my 
fear  of  men ;  besides,  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  it  may 
to  that  I  carry  my  own  remedy  as  well  as  his  pun'-shment  about 
»e — that  is,  if  my  suspicions  are  right,  as  I  fear  they  are." 

In  due  time  they  reached  Armagh,  where,  witr  the  excep- 
tion of  two  or  tnree,  they  separated,  and  contrived  to  get  into 
the  barracks  one  at  a  time.  That  the;  were  not  challenged 


44  REDMOND    COUNT    o'lIA.VLCN, 

on  entering  the  gate  resulted  from  the  fact  that  Lucas  had 
contrived  to  place  upon  guard  some  of  his  own  favorite  men, 
who  were  his  creatures  on  similar  occasions.  In  order  to  pre- 
vent all  possibility  of  noise,  Rose  was  hurried  in  between  two 
men,  one  of  whom  tied  a  thick  handkerchief  over  her  month, 
in  order  to  prevent  her  from  crying  out.  The  outrage,  indeed, 
was  a  daring  one,  and  at  a  first  view  as  foolishly  and  incau- 
tiously contrived  as  it  was  daring.  The  fact,  however,  was, 
that  the  barracks  at  the  tune  were  nearly  vacant,  not  more 
than  one  or  two  companies  being  then  in  occupation  of  them. 
The  consequence  was  that  Lucas,  who  knew  that  there  were 
spare  rooms  enough  in  which  to  shut  her  up,  had  selected  one 
in  a  remote  position,  and  to  which — as  it  and  the  others  ad- 
joining it  were  at  the  time  uninhabited,  though  well  fur- 
nished— he  resolved  to  commit  her,  as  being  free  from  any  iu 
tercourse  with  the  inmates  of  the  place.  An  old  woman — * 
confidential  wretch  of  his — was  prepared  to  attend  upon  her 
and  under  her  guidance,  and  that  of  the  two  ruffians  who  haa 
brought  her  into  the  barracks,  she  was  hurried  to  the  lonelj 
room  we  have  mentioned.  Here  she  found  candles,  a  fire,  anc! 
everything  laid  out  for  supper,  not  omitting  two  decanters  o( 
wine  that  stood  upon  the  table.  By  the  time  she  entered  thr 
"oom,  she  felt  herself  nearly  suffocated,  and  would  have  swoon 
sd  for  wf\nt  of  breath  had  she  not — now  that  her  hands  wert 
free — at  once  removed  the  handkerchief  from  her  month 
Having  done  so  she  panted  violently  several  times,  until  at 
u-ngth  she  found  herself  able  to  breathe  without  difficulty,  upon 
«-hich  she  looked  at  the  old  crone,  and  her  first  words  were  : 

"  Are  you  a  woman  ?  have  you  the  heart  and  feelings  of  a 
woman  ?  Can  you  see  such  an  outrage  as  this  committed  upou 
a  young,  inoffensive  creature  of  your  own  sex  ?  No  ;  I  can't 
think  it  possible.  Oh,  you  surely  will  ha\  e  compassion  upoo 
toe,  1  implore  you,  in  the  name  of  that  God  who  is.tQ.judg* 


rHt    IRISH    RAPPAREB.  45 

yon,  tc  pity  me  1  Oh,  enable  me  to  escape  from  the  villainy 
of  this  man.  As  you  hope  for  mercy,  enable  me  to  escape  ! 
My  father  is  a  wealthy  man,  and  will  reward  you  well  if  you 
do." 

The  vile  old  creature  ga\e  a  grin  at  first,  by  way  of  reply, 
out  after  a  little  she  answered  : 

"  Foolish  girl,  don't  stand  there  crying  and  wringing  your 
hands.  What  are  you  afraid  of?  Is  it  of  one  of  the  hand- 
somest young  genllutncn  in  his  majesty's  service  ?  Pity  !  troth 
1  have  neither  pity  nor  compassion  for  you,  nor  the  good  for- 
tune that's  waiting  for  you.  I  only  wish  I  was  your  age, 
and  as  handsome  as  yon  are,  and  maybe  I  wouldn't  think  my 
self  the  happy  girl  if  I  was  in  your  place.  Here  now;  take  a 
glass  of  wine,  and  it  will  comfort  you  and  put  you  in  good 
spirits.  What's  father  or  mother  to  the  like  of  such  a  beauti- 
ful young  fellow  as  Cornet  Lucas?  Come,  my  pretty  girL 
take  this  glass  of  wine  and  it  will  cheer  you." 

There  are  some  individuals — especially  old  women,  wh<;n 
they  happen  to  be  wicked,  as  was  the  case  here — upon  who«e 
features  and  whole  person  there  is  legible  and  visible  to  tie 
most  inexperienced  eye,  such  an  unquestionable  and  diabolic  it 
spirit  of  iniquity,  that  by  one  glance  at  them  we  are  as  capabJe 
of  understanding  their  character  as  if  being  an  acquaintance  for 
years.  The  tones  of  her  voice,  too,  afforded  as  strong  and 
at  undecided  a  proof  of  her  depravity  as  did  her  features. 
Altogether,  poor  Rose  felt  that  so  far  as  the  fiendish  old 
*  retch  was  concerned,  there  was  no  hope  for  her  She  ac- 
cordingly sat  down  on  a  chair,  and  maintained  an  unbroken 
silence  to  everything  she  said — a  mode  of  proceeding  which  an- 
noyed the  vicious  old  crone  to  the  quick.  She  felt  that  she 
was  now  treated  with  contempt,  as  well  as  with  hatred  and 
indignation.  Respect  for  the  taste  of  our  readers  prevents  IM 
from  detailing  the  infamous  tendency  of  her  onrersation,  and 


46  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLOX, 

the  vile  scope  of  her  arguments,  in  attempting  to  undermine 
the  pure  principles  of  this  virtuous  and  beautiful  creature 
Rose,  when  she  saw  and  felt  the  spirit  of  the  female  devil  she 
had  to  deal  with,  never  once  opened  her  lips  to  her,  as  we  have 
said.  Neither  did  she  now  shed  a  tear.  She  saw  there  was 
a  terrible  trial  before  her,  and  her  whole  spirit  was  absorbed 
in  its  result.  The  girl  was  in  despair,  or  very  near  it ;  but 
despair,  even  in  cowards,  has  a  courage  that  is  often  desper- 
ate :  what,  then,  must  it  not  be  in  a  person  who  possesses 
Birong  natural  courage,  as  was  the  case  with  her  ?  Her  tears, 
and  the  weakness  which  occasioned  them,  abandoned  her  ;  nay, 
her  very  fears,  to  a  certain  degree,  left  her,  and  she  felt  pre- 
pared, and  almost  anxious,  for  the  coming  trial,  with  a  hope 
that  it  might  end  in  her  favor.  Such,  indeed,  is  true  courage, 
especially  when  founded  upon  virtue  and  resolution  ;  and  shall 
we  not  add  to  this  her  strong  confidence  in  the  protection  of 
God  ?  At  length  the  vicious  old  sibyl  left  her,  and  after  hav- 
ing locked  the  door  outside,  Rose  could  hear  her  hated  foot- 
steps wending  along  the  passage  as  she  departed.  Human  na- 
ture is  a  strange  mystery.  Now  that  the  wretch,  bad  as  she 
was,  had  gone,  Rose  felt  as  if  a  portion  of  her  strength  and 
defense  had  departed  with  her.  She  did  not  think  that  any 
thing  in  the  shape  of  her  own  sex  could  be  aught  but  a  pro- 
tection to  her  ;  and  the  terror  which  she  had  partially  subdued 
again  returned  upon  her.  The  solitude  of  her  position,  and 
its  remoteness  from  all  human  assistance,  depressed  her  wrofully. 
But  again  the  thought  of  the  Almighty,  and  a  sense  of  hie 
overruling  providence,  once  more  came  to  her  support,  and 
whilst  in  this  state  of  mind  she  knelt  down  and  prayed  fer- 
rently  to  God,  and  with  bitter  tears  of  supplication  be&.ught 
his  assistance.  Having  risen  from  her  knees  she  looked  around 
the  room,  and  examined  the  windows,  to  try  whether  any  mod* 
of  escape  might  present  itself ;  but  alas,  the  scrutiny  was  hope 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREK.  41 

less  The  windows  were  secured  and  immovable,  so  far  as  she 
coulJ  ascertain,  and  resisted  all  her  attempts  to  open  them. 
Finding  the  melancholy  and  hopeless  nature  of  her  imprison- 
ment she  sat  down,  and  again  her  courage  and  resolution  re- 
turned to  her.  It  seemed  that  her  situation  resembled  the  hor- 
rors of  some  troubled  dream,  and  once  or  twice  she  pressed 
her  temples,  looked  at  her  hands,  rose  up  and  sat  down  again, 
with  a  hope  that  it  might  be  one  of  those  dreadful  phantasms 
which  sometimes  persecute  us  in  our  sleep,  and  which  we  feel 
as  a  reality  until  we  escape,  and  are  relieved  from  them  by 
awaking.  Thesa  experiments  satisfied  her,  however,  that  it 
was  neither  a  dream  nor  an  illusion,  but  a  frightful  and  hor- 
rible truth.  Whilst  this  awful  agony  wrought  so  terribly  on 
her  spirit,  she  heard  the  key  of  the  door  gently  insinuating  it- 
self into  the  lock — she  heard  it  turn — she  heard  the  bolt  shoot 
back,  and  the  next  moment  Lucas  entered  the  apartment.  He 
immediately  locked  the  door,  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  he,  "  what  good  angel  brought  you 
here  ?  If  I  knew  his  name  I  would  pray  to  him." 

"  A  better  angel,  sir,"  she  replied,  "  will  take  me,  I  trust, 
safe  out  of  this." 

14  He  must  be  a  very  good  one,  then,  and  a  great  deal 
stronger  than  me  ;  for  you  are  now  in  my  power,  and  I  would 
be  glad  to  see  the  angel  that  would  take  you  out  of  it.  Tou 
repulsed  me  once  successfully,  but  you  will  not  do  it  a  second 
t:me." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,  sir,"  sh«j  replied  ;  "  keep  your 
distance,"  for  he  was  approaching  her.  "Sir,"  she  added, 
"  keep  your  distance.  I  wish  I  could  address  you  as  a  gentle- 
man and  a  soldier.  I  entreat  you,  sir,  if  you  be  either,  to  set 
me  at  liberty,  and  allow  me  to  return  in  safety  to  my  sorrow 
Ing  and  outraged  family." 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  notion  of  it,  I  assure  you,"  he  r» 


48  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

plied  ;  "  but,  listen,  I  would  rather  win  you  by  love  and  affeo 
tion  than  have  recourse  to  violence." 

"  Violence  !  you  surely  dare  not  have  recourse  to  violence  • 
you  know  what  the  consequences  must  be  to  yourself.  I  en- 
treat you,  then,  if  you  be  either  a  gentleman  or  a  soldier,  to 
set  me  at  liberty,  and  let  me  go  home  to  my  parents.  They 
are  not  without  friends  who  will  bring  you  to  an  account  for 
any  violence  you  may  dare  to  offer  me.  The  Johnstons  of 
the  Fews  are  particular  friends  to  my  family.  They  are  our 
landlords  ;  and  you  may  believe  me  when  I  tell  you,  that 
if  you  even  attempt  to  insult  or  injure  me,  they  will  bring  you 
to  a  short  and  sharp  account  for  it." 

The  knowledge  of  this  fact  staggered  the  young  villain  for 
a  few  moments,  and  he  seemed  to  pause  for  a  while  and  be 
come  thoughtful.  While  he  is  thinking,  we  will  say  a  fer 
words  about  that  once  remarkable  family.  The  Johnstons  o( 
the  Fews,  then,  were  the  most  celebrated  and  active  men  o* 
their  day  as  Tory  hunters,  and  had  won  a  reputation  as  ei 
tensive  as  the  kingdom  itself,  for  pursuing,  capturing,  a  no 
bringing  to  justice  those  unprincipled  banditti  who  robberf 
and  murdered  in  all  directions,  and  kept  the  whole  country  hi 
a  rtate  of  terror  and  ferment.  The  activity,  courage,  ani 
perseverance  of  this  family  were  astonishing ;  and,  in  trutl. 
both  the  country  and  the  government  were  under  great  obb 
gations  to  them.  They  were  also  strong,  but  open  opponent* 
to  persons  of  the  Catholic  creed  ;  but  their  principles  as  land 
lords  were  decidedly  feudal.  Of  course,  they  had  a  vast  num- 
ber of  Roman  Catholic  tenantry  under  them,  and  although 
they  proclaimed  themselves  bitter  enemies  to  the  Ch  irch  of 
Home  and  her  adherents,  yet,  as  the  Catholics  on  their  pro- 
perty were  their  Catholics,  woe  betide  the  man — no  matter 
what  his  rank  or  condition  might  be — who  happened  to  offend 
or  injure  any  one  of  them.  The  consequence  was,  that  their  vio> 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREB.  4t 

fence  was  looked  upon,  especially  by  the  Catholics  of  the  day, 
as  "  full  of  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing ;"  and  if  any 
person  of  that  religion  living  on  their  property  felt  aggrieved, 
the  first  individual  of  might  or  rank  to  whom  they  ap» 
n);od  was  certain  to  be  some  one  of  the  "Johnstons  of  the 
Fows." 

Our  readers  will  now  understand  the  force  of  Rose's  argu- 
ment, when  she  pleaded  their  relation  as  landlords  to  her 
family. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  let  the  Johnstons  of  the  Fews  rest — there 
is  no  one  going  to  interfere  with  them  ;  but,  in  the  meantime, 
I  don't  see  why  I  should  not  prove  myself  a  hospitable  Irish- 
man— why  I  should  not  shake  hands  with  my  beautiful  guest, 
and  welcome  her  to  the  place  I  have  provided  for  her.  Thero 
is  no  harm  in  that,  I  hope.  I  mean  it  all  in  love  and  affec- 
tion." 

As  he  spoke  he  was  again  approaching  her. 

"  Stand  back,  sir"  she  replied,  quickly  and  resolutely  draw- 
ing an  Irish  skean,  or  dagger,  out  of  her  bosom.  "  There's 
only  two  lives  between  as  ;  advance  another  step  and  one  of 
them  will  be  taken.  Give  up  your  villainous  design  at  once 
for  if  you  approach  another  step,  I  will  plunge  this  skean  into 
your  body,  and  if  I  fail  in  that,  I  will  plunge  it  into  my  own; 
so  that,  iu  whatever  way  it  may  end,  you  will  lose  your  ob- 
ject Stand  back,  then  ;  for,  as  God  who  sees  my  heart  and 
I  nows  my  determination,  I  will  keep  my  word.  In  whatever 
way  !t  may  end,  this  will  be  a  black  night  to  you." 

"You  know,"  said  he,  "I  might  bring  in  assistance,  and 
lave  you  disarmed.  You  know  that ;  so  you  may  a?  well 
throw  your  skean  aside,  for  I  will  do  it." 

"•  You  may,"  she  replied  ;  "  Lat  the  first  glimpse  I  catch 
of  any  assistance  coming  with  yon,  that  moment  will  I  ?tab 
myself  to  the  heart.  In  anr  sense,  in  every  sense,  I  defj  ye;« 


10  REDMOND   COUNT  0*HANLON, 

then ;  and  besides,  I  trust  in  the  protection  of  God,  who  ii 
stronger  than  you  and  all  your  wicked  instruments." 

"  Very  well,"  he  replied,  "  I  shall  take  another  course.    Be 

assured  I  shall  subdue  you  yet,  although  I  would  rather  do  it 

by  kindness  and  affection,  as  I  have  said,  than  otherwise. 

i  Did  you  never  hear  of  such  a  thing  as  '  starving  the  garrison  ?"• 

"  I  have  some  notion  of  what  you  mean,"  she  returned ; 
"but,  even  so,  I  have  my  own  remedy,  thank  God,  and 
will  use  it  sooner  than  ever  you  should  gain  your  vile  and 
cowardly  purpose." 

"Very  well,"  said  he,  "we  shall  see  the  upshot.  As  I 
have'*life,  I  shall  starve  you  here  until  you  will  not  be  able  to 
use  your  dagger.  I  now  leave  yon,  and  remember  that  you 
will  find  my  words  prophetic  and  true." 

"  And  so  shall  you  mine,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  think  of  the 
consequences  of  this  conduct — what  will  they  be  to  you  ?  It 
cannot  pass  without  discovery,  and  when  it  is  known  you  will 
be  dragged  to  disgrace  and  punishment.  You  will  die  a 
shameful  death,  if  you  persevere  in  your  wickedness." 

"  I  leave  you  now,"  said  he ;  "  but  out  of  my  hands  you 
never  shall  escape  until  you  are  subdued  and  overcome." 

"  I  have  told  you  before,"  she  replied,  "  that  it  cannot  be. 
You  are  bringing  your  own  fate  upon  your  own  head." 

"  Time  will  tell,"  said  he  ;  "  but  I  now  leave  you." 

He  accordingly  withdrew,  locking  the  door  after  him  ;  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  old  crone  returned,  and,  without  uttering 
•  syllable,  carried  off  with  her  every  particle  of  food  and  every 
drop  of  drink  that  was  in  the  room,  with  the  exception  of  one 
decanter  of  wine.  She  locked  the  door  as  before,  and  poor 
Rose  was  left  in  solitude  and  silence,  in  such  a  state  of  mind 
as  it  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  describe  to  our  readers. 

She  was  a  brave  and  great  girl ;  but  there  are  hundreds  of 
thousands  as  brave  and  as  great  throughout  the  respectablt 


THK    IRISH    RAITAREE  5l 

peasant  homesteads  of  oar  country.  Whilst  Lucas  was  in 
conversation  with  her,  and  indeed  so  long  as  he  remained  in 
the  room,  her  beautiful  form  seemed,  as  it  were,  transfigured 
into  the  very  spirit  of  resolution  and  courage  ;  her  cheeks  and 
temples  glowed  with  the  determined  purpose  of  her  heart,  and 
her  beautiful  eyes  flashed  with  a  fire  that  shot  from  them  like 
IFghtning,  and  gave  unquestionable  proof  that  the  dreadful 
resolution  she  had  threatened  she  would  most  assuredly  exe- 


On  that  night,  Patchy  the  Baccach  —  whom  our  readers,  we 
presume,  may  already  suspect  of  playing  a  double  game  be- 
*ween  the  Rapparees  and  the  military  —  came  to  the  resolution 
«*f  discovering,  if  possible,  the  place  of  concealment  to  which 
the  unfortunate  girl  might  be  committed.  With  this  intention 
te  crossed  the  country  toward  Armagh,  which  he  reached 
I0me  shun  time  previous  to  the  arrival  of  the  party.  He  had 
been  permitted  to  sleep  occasionally  in  some  unoccupied  lum- 
ber-room in  the  barracks,  and,  not  unfrequently,  was  allowed 
to  spend  his  nights  in  the  guard-room,  where  he  amused  the 
men  with  wonderful  narratives  of  his  adventures  while  in  the 
Irish  army.  The  soldiers  knew  that  he  was  under  the  protec- 
tion and  in  the  confidence  of  the  officers,  and  on  this  account 
he  was  admitted  freely,  and  at  all  hours.  On  the  night  in 
question  he  presented  himself,  and  was  received  with  that 
good-humored  but  contemtptuous  banter,  to  which  he  was  well 
accustomed,  and  to  which  he  always  replied  with  very  amiioing 
drollery. 

"  Well,  Patchy,  what  good  news  to-night,  you  lame  old 
rebel?" 

"Why,"  replied  Patchy,  "  do  you  call  me  an  ould  rel>el  ?  1 
look  odder  than  I  am,  I  know  ;  but  maybe  if  you  were  »fther 
harrowing  all  that  I  ploughed,  you'd  have  three  wrinkles  in 
f  onr  face  for  my  oue.  Ould  1  a  man  at  forty-two  is  only  ii 


ftl  RKTOIO.VD   COUNT   o'HANLOW, 

his  prime  of  life,  and  if  it  were  not  for  this  lameness,  Fd  tach« 
some  of  yon  what  activity  manes.  Sure,  I  often  danced  a 
hornpipe  upon  a  soap-bubble  widout  ever  breakin'  it.  Mav 
rone  1  but  I  was  nearly  cotch  by  the  same  lameness  though 
the  night  the  bloody  Rapparees  gave  me  the  chivvy-chase.  To 
think  of  the  villains  followin'  me  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
the  barracks  1" 

"  The  ground  must  have  swallowed  them,  then,  Patchy ;  for 
when  we  turned  out  to  pursue  them,  there  wasn't  a  man  of  the 
scoundrels  to  be  found." 

"  But  sure,  they  say  their  Captain  can  make  himself  invisible 
whenever  he  likes,  and  that  he  carries  bracken  seed  about  him 
for  the  very  purpose." 

"  Faith,  and  they  must  all  have  carried  it  about  them  OP 
that  night ;  for  devil  a  man  of  them  was  visible  at  all.  Well 
but  have  you  no  news  in  particular  to-night  ?" 

"Troth,  some"  he  replied,  significantly,  "has  good  news  to 
night,  and  some  has  but  indifferent.  "I  missed  my  set  this  timt 
at  the  Raps ;  but  you  know  the  worse  luck  now,  the  bettei 
again.  It'll  go  hard  wid  me  or  I'll  have  them  yet  especial  Ij 
the  Captain.  Och,  I'm  tired  and  starved,  and  must  g* 
and  throw  myself  on  some  shake-down  in  the  ould  lumber 
mom." 

Instead  of  going  to  the  lumber-room,  however,  he  kept 
dodging  about  the  barracks  until  the  troopers  arrived,  wher 
he  planted  himself  opposite  the  windows  in  order  to  reconnoitre 
their  proceedings,  and  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  how  they  might 
impose  of  the  unhappy  girl,  in  whose  fate  he  felt  deeply  aucl 
intensely  interested. 

"  1  will  watch  the  windows,"  thought  he,  "  and  who  knows 
but  I  may  find  out  where  they  will  place  her.  That's  all  I 
want :  for  I  know  the  man  that  will  take  her  out  of  the  heart'? 
blood  of  the  barracks,  if  he  only  knows  where  to  find  her.' 


THK  IRISH    RAPPAREK.  68 

The  light  was  fortunately  very  dark,  and  be  kept  walking 
np  and  down  opposite  the  windows.  He  felt  no  surprise  on 
Beeiog  Lucas's  room  lighted — for  he  was  well  aware  of  its  po- 
sition— but  on  seeing  another  apartment  in  a  remote  part  of 
the  building,  which  he  knew  to  have  been,  until  that  night, 
unoccupied  for  a  considerable  time  past,  he  began  to  entertain 
a  strong  suspicion  that  it  might  be  that  which  they  had  selected 
as  her  place  of  captivity — at  least  until  her  ruin  should  be  ac- 
complished. Here  he  remained  until  Rose  had  been  left  to 
herself,  and  from  this  position  he  observed  her  attempting  to 
ascertain  if  any  kind  of  escape  were  available  by  the  windows. 
In  making  the  experiment  she  had  placed  the  caudle  on  the 
window-ledge,  so  that  he  had  such  a  distinct  view  of  her  as  at 
once  satisfied  him  of  her  identity  and  the  place  of  her  impris- 
onment. To  communicate  with  her,  however,  without  the  risk 
of  discovery,  he  felt  to  be  out  of  the  question ;  but  he  thanked 
Qod  that  he  had  at  least  ascertained  the  locality  of  the  room 
in  which  they  had  immured  her ;  and  to  prevent  any  possibility 
of  mistake,  he  reckoned  the  windows  from  the  forth  point  of 
the  range,  until  he  came  to  that  of  the  apartment  which  con- 
tained her,  and  placed  a  mark  of  three  round  stones  close  to 
the  wall  directly  beneath  it,  lest  there  might  be  any  mistake  in 
his  reckoning.  Having  accomplished  so  much,  he  felt  that  to 
leave  the  barracks  at  that  unseasonable  hour,  after  having  so 
recently  returned  to  them,  might  occasion  suspicion.  He  ac- 
cordingly retired  to  the  luinber-room  already  mentioned,  which 
was  his  usual  place  of  rest  when  among  the  military  ;  and  as 
he  really  felt  much  fatigued  after  his  difficult  and  harassing 
journey  across  the  country,  he  soon  sank  into  a  sleep,  at  once 
deep  and  refreshing.  The  next  morning  he  awoke  late,  but 
active  and  recruited  in  strength.  Having  dressed  himsell— 
if  we  may  say  so,  considering  the  habiliments  he  wore-— be 
joined  one  of  the  soldiers'  messes,  where  he  amused  them,  and 


54  BKDMOKD  COUNT  o'HANLOW, 

breakfasted  besides  to  his  heart's  content.  He  then  prepared  to 
leave  the  barracks,  bat  on  his  way  was  met  by  Cornet  Lucas. 

"  Well,  Patchy,"  said  that  gentleman,  "  how  the  devil  doe« 
it  happen  that  you  are  in  barracks  this  morning  ?" 

"  Faith,  for  my  own  safety,  your  honor,"  replied  Patchy ; 
"  but  how  the  devil  did  it  happen  that  you  ordhered  me  to  go 
to  Brian  Callan's  last  night,  where  a  party  of  your  men  came 
to  take  me  prisoner  as  a  spy  to  the  Rapparees  ?  Doesn't  your 
fconor  know  the  hunt  they  give  me  about  a  mouth  ago,  almost 
to  the  very  gate  of  the  barracks,  and  that  mortal  man  never 
had  such  an  escape  as  I  had  ?" 

"  What  party,  Patchy  ?  No  party  from  these  barracks 
was  out  last  night.  I  believe  you  know  all  the  men  here,  and 
you  can  say  whether  any  of  them  was  at  Callan's." 

"Faith,  I  can  say  no  such  thing,"  replied  Patchy,  "for  the 
best  raison  in  the  world,  bekase  I  didn't  see  them." 

"  You  didn't  see  them  ?  That  is  unfortunate.  How  did  it 
happen  that  you  didn't  see  them  ?"  * 

"Why,  sir,  bekase  when  I  heard  they  were  lookin'  for  me,  I 
tuck  to  ray  scrapers." 

"  Did  they  commit  any  outrage  ?" 

"  Not,  sir,  that  I  am  aware  of,  barrin'  drivin'  me  out  of  my 
warm  bed,  the  thieves,  when  I  was  tould  they  were  lookin'  for 
me." 

"  Patchy,  my  man,  I  never  thought  you  a  blockhead  until 
now.  Don't  you  understand  it  ?" 

"  The  devil  a  bit,  your  honor  ;  it's  Greek  to  me  so  far." 

"  Why,  Patchy,  the  villains  must  have  been  the  Rappareea. 
Tea  know  yourself  they're  not  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with 
you." 

"Faith,  you've  hot  it  there,  sir — nor  with  your  honor,  either," 
replied  Patchy  ;  "  but  what  I  wish  to  know  is,  why  you  MO! 
M  there  last  night,  sir?" 


THK    IRISH    RAPPARKI.  55 

"Simply,  Patchy,  to  bring  about  what  has  Happened.  1 
•ow  know  the  Rapparees  are  in  this  immediate  part  of  the 
country.  They  must  have  seen  yoi  goin'  to  Callan's,  and  youi 
presence  there  it  was  which  occasioned  their  midnight  visit  to 
his  house.  I  hope  they  offered  no  violence  to  his  family,"  ho 
added,  keenly  scrutinizing  Patchy's  countenance  as  he  spoke. 
"  They  say  their  Captain  is  in  love  with  Miss  Callan." 

"  That  may  be,  sir ;  but  it's  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  of 
It;  but  why  did  you  send  me  to  where  I  stood  a  hundred 
chances  to  one  of  falling  into  their  hands?  Don't  you  know, 
«r,  they're  on  the  look-out  for  me  night  and  day  ;  and  besides, 
by  sendin'  me  there,  you  prevented  me  from  makin'  good  my 
*et  upon  them.  But  why  did  yon  send  me  at  all,  sir?" 

"  Why,  to  satisfy  myself  that  they  are  in  the  neighborhood : 
and  besides  I  depended  upon  your  own  ingenuity  in  escaping 
them.  You  see  I  was  right ;  but  I  wish  you  had  seen  them, 
that  you  might  give  me  some  account  of  their  personal  appear 
•nee." 

"Personal  appearance,  inagh  (forsooth).  Why,  doesn't  your 
honor  know  they  never  appear  the  same  thing  two  days  run- 
nin',  or  rather  two  nights  runnin';  and  as  for  their  Captain, 
he  can  change  himself  in  such  a  way — face,  dress,  discourse, 
and  all — that  his  own  men  often  doesn't  know  him  from 
Adam." 

"  So  they  say,  indeed.  In  the  meantime,  I  hope  they  have 
offered  no  violence  to  Callan's  family.  Yes,  you  are  right, 
Patchy,  for  it  is  well  known  that  they  sometimes  assume  the 
uniform  of  his  Majesty's  British  soldiers,  and  commit  the  most 
atrocious  depredations  in  then*  name.  It  is  very  probable  that 
if  they  committed  any  outrage  upon  poor  Callan's  family  last 
night,  they  had  recourse  to  the  same  disguises.  Now,  go  and 
try  your  hand  at  tracing  their  whereabouts.  It  is  clear  that 
they  are  in  the  neighborhood.  Ton  know  the  reward  that  ii 


66  REDMOND   COUNT  o'HANLON, 

offered  by  the  Government  for  their  leader,  and  that  if  jot 
enable  us  to  secure  him,  you  will  get  an  ample  share  of  it." 

"  Isn't  that  what  I'm  thinkin'  of,  sir,  day  and  night ;  but,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  the  people — I  mane  the  Catholics,  your 
honor — are  beginning  I  think,  to  suspect  me  ;  and  if  it  'ud  be 
agreeable  to  you,  sir,  to  give  me  a  few  lines  from  undher  your 
own  hand,  by  way  of  probation,  jist  to  recommend  all  loyal 
subjects  to  prevent  me,  as  far  as  they  can,  from  receivin'  an? 
injury  from  the  rebelly  Papists,  it  would  be  of  great  use  to  nifc. 
About  a  fortnight  ago  I  met  one  of  those  terrible  men,  the 
Johnstons  of  the  Fews,  and  he  was  very  near  sendin'  me  to 
jail  as  a  rebel  that  had  fought  against  King  William  at  the 
Boyne  and  the  siege  of  Limerick,  and  only  I  referred  him  to 
Colonel  Caterson,  he  would  have  done  it.  I'm  not  safe,  sir, 
from  either  party,  I  tell  you,  without  some  such  protection." 

"  Very  well,  Patchy  ;  stay  where  you  are  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  I  will  return  with  the  document  you  want.  It  may  serve 
you,  certainly — at  least  with  the  magistrates  and  the  loyal 
portion  of  the  community — and  you  shall  have  it.  In  the 
meantime,  don't  conceal  any  outrage  that  the  Rapparees  muy 
have  committed  last  night  from  the  people ;  that  is,  if  thej 
have  committed  any,  which  I  hope  they  did  not." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned  with  the  following  document, 
which  he  presented  to  Patchy,  who,  after  having  received  it, 
immediately  left  the  barracks.  It  was  to  the  following  effect  • 

"This  is  to  certify,  that  the  bearer,  Patchy  M'Quade,  commonl) 
called  Patchy  Baccach,  is  a  loyal  subject,  and  considered  worthy  the 
protection  of  the  garrison  of  Armagh,  and  all  other  loyal  men  in 
this  His  Majesty's  kingdom  of  Ireland. 

"(Signed)  WILIJAM  LUCAS, 

"Cornet  in  His  Majesty's  Third  Dragoons." 

Patchy,  who  was  no  scholar,  put  the  paper  carefully  in  an 
Inside  pocket,  feeling  perfectly  aware  that  its  discovery  upon 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREK.  01 

dim  by  tbjee  of  his  own  creed,  who  were  ignorant  of  his  pecu- 
liar position  between  the  Rapparees  and  the  military,  might 
look  upon  him  as  a  spy  for  the  Government — a  character 
which,  at  that  time,  was  attended  with  anything  but  security 
Ue  was  possessed,  however,  of  great  cunning  and  ingenuity, 
and  the  reader  will  soon  see  the  purpose  to  which  he  npplu J 
this  document,  and  his  object  in  procuring  it. 


RIDMOND  COUNT  o'HANLOM, 


CHAPTER   IV 

PATCHY'S  connection  with  the  Rapparees  was  closer  and 
more  confidential  than  oar  readers  have  yet  been  enabled  to 
guess  at.  The  duties  which  he  discharged  toward  them  were 
various  and  important.  In  the  first  place,  from  the  trust  which 
was  placed  in  him  by  the  military,  he  always  became  ac 
quainted  with  the  projected  movements  of  every  party  who 
upon  any  information  received  as  to  their  places  of  conceal- 
ment, had  been  appointed  to  capture  them.  In  consequence 
of  this  knowledge  on  his  part,  he  was  always  able,  by  dis- 
patching some  trustworthy  scout  to  their  place  of  rendezvous 
for  the  time  being,  to  anticipate  and  defeat  the  movements  of 
the  military.  Again,  he  acted  as  a  setter  for  them,  which  he 
did  by  traversing  the  country  and  ferreting  out  such  circum- 
stances as  enabled  him  to  mark  the 'houses  of  persons  who 
were  known  to  be  in  possession  of  large  sums  of  money,  plate, 
and  other  valuables.  In  such  cases,  he  contrived  to  examine 
the  peculiar  structure  of  the  buildings,  their  strongest  and 
weakest  points  of  defense,  together  with  the  number  and  de- 
scription of  arms  that  were  kept  for  the  safety  of  their  pro- 
perty. If  he  could  tamper  with  and  corrupt  a  serva-nt,  it  was 
sc  much  gained  ;  and  the  latter  was  always  certain  to  receive 
a  portion  of  the  plunder.  Again,  he  acted  as  a  poacher,  in 
which  capacity  he  procured  considerable  quantities  of  ammuni 
tion  powder,  through  the  officers  of  the  barracks,  to  whom  he 
disposed  of  the  game,  declining,  in  most  cases,  to  receive  any- 
thing but  powder  for  it.  In  order  to  prevent  suspicion,  he 
assured  them  that  he  was  the  worst  shot,  as  a  sportsman,  that 
ever  leveled  a  gun  ;  that  for  one  hare,  or  partridge,  9r  grouse 
be  brought  down,  he  missed  twenty,  and  that  it  was  a  sin  and 


THC    IRISH    RAPPAREE  59 

a  shame  to  think  of  the  loads  of  powder  he  wasted.  Thii 
custom  of  military  officers  exchanging  powder  for  game  sup- 
plied by  poachers  at  their  barracks,  or  other  stations,  has  been 
practiced  within  our  own  memory,  and  to  our  own  knowledge. 
In  addition  to  all  this,  worthy  Patchy  frequently  hung  about 
public  inns,  ale-houses,  and  other  places  of  entertainment,  es- 
pecially for  travelers  and  wayfarers,  into  whose  circumstances 
and  motions  he  pried  with  equal  success  and  ability.  On  these 
occasions  he  was  always  accompanied  by  a  smart,  active  lad, 
who  passed  for  his  son,  and  to  whom  was  intrusted  the  task  of 
communicating  to  the  nearest  rendezvous  of  the  Rappareea 
the  intelligence  he  had  gained. 

Such  is  an  accurate  description  of  the  character  of  Patchy 
Baccach,  who,  although  he  took  no  part  in  the  actual  rob- 
beries and  other  outrages  perpetrated  by  the  Rapparees,  was 
yet  one  of  the  most  useful  and  accomplished  vagabonds  among 
them.  He  always  knew  their  haunts,  even  for  a  week  or  fort- 
night to  come,  unless  when  some  information  against  them,  or 
an  occasional  pursuit  by  the  military,  occasioned  them  to  make 
a  sudden  change  in  the  plan  of  their  operations. 

At  the  period  of  which  we  write — toward  the  close  of  King 
Charles  the  Second's  reign — Ireland  was  covered  with  a  vast 
quantity  of  wood  and  forest,  which  has  altogether  disappeared. 
The  roads,  too,  were  bad  and  few  in  number.  In  general  they 
were  paved  with  large,  broad,  solid  stones,  somewhat  greater 
in  size  than  a  quartern  loaf ;  and  what  was  still  more  extraordi- 
nary, the  principle  of  selecting  the  most  perfect  level  was  either 
then  unknown,  or  purposely  disregarded.  It  has  been  asserted, 
but  with  what  truth  we  will  not  undertake  to  say,  that  thej 
were  run  "  up  one  hill,  and  down  another,"  in  order  that  the 
traveler — at  a  time  when  the  country  swarmed  with  the  wild- 
est and  most  ferocious  banditti,  murderers,  wood-kerns,  and 
other  licentious  profligates  of  the  period — might  hare  an  op 


80  REDMOND  COUNT  O'HANLON, 

portonity  of  surveying  the  road  before  him,  and  the  coontjfj 
about  him,  to  ascertain  from  this  point  of  elevation  what  the 
prospects  of  danger,  or  the  chances  of  flight  and  safety  might 
be.  This  argument,  however,  is  of  a  piece  with  the  skill  and 
wisdom  which  constructed  such  roads.  At  all  events,  be  the 
roads  as  they  might,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  surface  of 
Ireland  at  that  time  was  extensively  covered  with  many  thick 
and  dense  forests  which  no  longer  exist — a  circumstance  which 
accounts  for  the  difficulty  of  capturing  those  Tories  and  Rap- 
parees,  as  well  as  for  the  long  reign  of  terror  which  they  in- 
flicted on  the  country.  Be  this  as  it  may,  Patchy  directed 
bis  steps  towards  the  Newry,-as  it  was  then  called,  and  having 
arrived  at  a  farmer's  house  not  far  from  the  road,  he  resolved 
to  claim  the  hospitality  of  the  family,  and  remain  there  until 
dusk.  He  accordingly  entered  the  house,  which  was  rather  a 
comfortable  one,  but  found  only  a  middle-aged  woman  and  a 
couple  of  little  girls  within.  The  woman  was  in  tears,  and 
seemed  full  of  sorrow,  but  the  childfen  were  evidently  too 
young  to  understand  the  cause  of  her  grief.  She  sat  upon  a 
chair  at  the  far  side  of  the  fireplace,  having  her  apron  thrown 
over  her  left  shoulder,  and  her  face  toward  the  door.  In  this 
position  she  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  as  is  the  custom  of 
Irishwomen  when  in  a  state  of  affliction,  and  every  now  and 
then  she  sobbed  and  wiped  her  eyes  with  the  apron,  which  she 
had  thus  disposed  for  the  purpose. 

"  Daicent  woman,"  said  Patchy,  "  what's  the  matther  wid 
you  that  you  seem  in  sich  affliction  ?  I  hope  you  have  lo.*t 
none  of  your  family  ?  But,  even  if  you  have,  you  know  it's 
the  fate  of  nature,  and  we  must  submit." 

"  Loss  P  she  replied.  "  Oh,  thin,  it's  we  that  had  the  bit- 
ther  loss — three  of  the  best  friends  we  ever  had." 

"  Chiernah  P  exclaimed  Patchy,  "  three  is  it  ?  Why,  God  ht 
knows,  a  body  'ud  think  that  one  ought  to  be  enough." 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARKI.  f>J 

"  Aye,  and  one  too  much,  too,"  she  said  ;  "  bnt  1  tould 
Darby  that  it  would  be  so  ;  but  in  ordher  to  sa?e  the  beg- 
garly penny,  see  what  he  has  brought  on  us — '  save  a  shillin* 
and  lose  a  pound  ;'  for  so  it  was  in  this  case  at  any  rate." 

"  But  how  is  it  ?"  asked  Patchy.  "  What  part  of  your  fam- 
ily did  you  lose,  honest  woman  V 

"  Oh,  then,  three  o*  the  best  cows  that  ever  went  into 
byre.  They're  gone,  and  we'll  never  see  hilt  or  hair  of  them  ; 
oud  now  we'll  have  nothing  for  it  but  the  black  wather  to 
Kitchen  our  bit,  let  alone  the  loss  of  the  butther  that  we  had 
to  make  up  the  rent.  Wurra,  wurra,  what'll  become  of  us  ?" 

"  Faith,  good  woman,"  replied  Patchy,  "  that's  a  bad  busi- 
ness ;  and  who  do  you  suspect  for  them  ?  Who  do  you  think 
took  them  ?" 

"  Who  ?"  she  replied  ;  "  why,  who  but  the  Rapparees  T' 

"  The  Rapparees  !  faith  and  you  must  have  given  them 
offeuse  some  way  ;  bekase  it's  a  rare  thing  for  them  to  come 
down  upon  the  likes  o'  you  so  severely  as  that.  It's  the  rich 
Prodestants  that  they  always  harry.  I  tell  you  then  to  your 
face,  that  you  must  have  provoked  them  some  way,  or  they'd 
never  lay  a  finger  upon  either  you  or  yours." 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  argned  strongly  with 
Darby  about  it ;  but  when  that  terrible  Captain  of  theirs  waa 
laid  up  a  cripple — bavin'  lost  the  use  of  his  limbs — Darby 
thought  he'd  never  recover,  and  that  he  might  skulk  out  of 
bw  bargain  wid  him." 

"  What  bargain  was  that  F1 

"  Why  you  see,  the  Rapparee  entered  into  an  agreement 
with  the  people  of  the  country,  especially  the  farmers,  that  if 
tkey'd  pay  him  so  much  a  year  he'd  undertake  to  keep  them 
harmless.  If  they  lost  cattle  or  my  other  property  he  bound 
himself  either  to  recover  it  for  them,  or  make  up  the  loss  from 
Vi*  ovn  jwkrt.  In  the  meantime,  while  he  was  ill  and  • 


69  RKDMOXD   COUNT  O'HANLOR 

helpless  cripple,  the  devil  tempted  Darby,  whose  heart  is  toe 
much  in  the  arraghids  (money),  to  break  his  agreement,  and 
keep  back  what  he  promised  to  pay  yearly  for  his  protec- 
tion." 

"  Phew  I"  exclaimed  Patchy  :  "  then  you  may  whistle  foi 
your  cows.  Devil  resave  the  hair  o'  them  ever  you'll  see 
Your  nagerly  husband,  thinkin'  the  Captain  'ud  never  recover, 
and  knowin'  besides  that  he  was  ill  and  in  want,  went  and  de- 
sarted  him  in  the  day  of  his  trouble  ;  but  now  he  is  well,  and 
has  twiist  the  power  over  the  country  he  ever  had,  and  the 
devil  a  man  that  ever  broke  his  agreement  wid  him,  when  in 
the  day  of  his  distress,  but  will  sup  sorrow  for  his  conduct, 
and  the  devil  pity  every  treacherous  and  beggarly  rascal  that 
did  so.  They  say  it  was  few  that  did  it,  and  so  much  the 
betther  for  them  that  was  honest  and  faithful  to  him  ;  but 
woe  betide  the  nagers  that  treated  him  as  your  beggarb 
scoundrel  of  a  husband  did.  Devil  a  thing  I  heard  this 
month  o'  Sundays  that  has  pleased  me  more  than  the  loss  of 
the  same  cows  ;  but,  in  the  manetime,  I  didn't  care  if  I  had 
something  to  ait.  There's  a  vacancy  in  my  stomach  that* 
anything  but  agreeable  or  pleasant,  and  I  don't  care  how  soon 
it  was  filled  up." 

"Well,  honest  man,"  replied  the  woman,  "although  you 
don't  seem  to  feel  much  compassion  for  our  loss,  still,  they  say, 
it's  our  duty  to  return  good  for  evil ;  so  if  I  have  time  to  toss 
you  up  a  rasher  before  Darby  comes  in,  I  will ;  but  if  he 
catches  you  at  it,  the  house  won't  hould  him.  Whisper,  ao 
cushla !  he's  a  miser  and  a  skrew,  and  I  believe  in  my  sowl 
that  if  his  salvation  was  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  brass  farden 
on  the  other,  wid  his  choice  of  either,  he'd  secure  the  braa 
farden." 

"  God  help  you  wid  him,  poor  woman  !"  exclaimed  Patchy; 
"  it  wa?  a  black  day  you  ever  seen  the  keowt ;  but  still  an 


THK  IRISH   RAPPARH.  •• 

all,  get  tu  the  rasher,  and  we'll  bear  the  consequence  if  he 
"wines." 

The  timid  but  good-natured  woman  prejiared  the  rashet 
with  all  possible  expedition,  and  Patchy  was  jost  si  ,ting  down 
to  do  it  ample  justice,  when  in  walks  the  miser  himself,  with  a 
small,  withered  face,  and  sharp,  piercing,  little  eyes,  in  which 
gleamed  an  expression  of  fierceness  and  distraction,  resulting1 
from  the  loss  he  had  sustained,  and  his  evident  want  of  success 
in  finding  any  trace  or  intelligence  of  his  cattle.  He  first 
fastened  an  angry  glance  upon  Patchy,  and  then  upon  his 
wife. 

"  What's  this,  Peggy  ?"  said  he  ;  "is  it  wastin'  my  hard- 
earned  substance  in  this  manner  you  are,  upon  such  a  lame 
runagate  as  this?  Dhamno  ortk!  (damnation  on  you)  do 
you  think  I  can  stand  by  and  look  at  sich  extravagance  as 
this,  especially  as  I'm  fairly  starved  wid  hunger  myself.  Be- 
gone out  o'  this,  you  devil's  lomenther  (a  lame  person)  ;  I 
must  have  my  dinner."  And  as  he  spoke  he  was  about  to 
seize  the  wooden  trencher — for  delph  was  almost  unknown 
among  the  farmers  of  that  remote  period — upon  which  Patchy's 
rashers  were  smoking. 

"  Aisy,  my  good  neighbor,"  said  Patchy,  gripping  it  firmly ; 
"will  you  make  a  wager?" 

"A  wager!    What  vager?    No,  I  won't." 

"Bekase,"  proceeded  Patchy,  "I'll  hould  fifty  to  one,  and 
that's  long  odds,  that  a  morsel  of  that  same  rasher  will  never 
pass  between  your  yellow  tusks;  and  I'll  double  that  again, 
th  it  if  you  don't  sit  down  there  and  behave  yourself  like  a 
quiet,  daicent,  and  hospitable  man,  as  you  are  not,  I'll  show 
you  three  jiches  of  your  own  tongue,  by  way  of  novelty  and 
amusement  to  yourself.  So  keep  a  calm  svgh,  my  ould  cod- 
ger, until  I  finish  my  male's  mait.  Do  you  understand  my 
thing  by  that  ?" 


64  RBDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLOK, 

The  old  miser  sat  down,  and,  placing  his  withered  face  upon 
his  withered  palms,  sighed  and  groaned  as  if  his  very  heart 
would  break. 

"Ay  1"  he  exclaimed,  "robbed,  every  way  robbed — first  by 
a  foolish  wife,  and  again  by  these  thieving  Rapparees.  Oh, 
my  three  beautiful  cows :  the  likes  o'  them  wasn't  in  the  par- 
ish, in  the  county,  in  the  kingdom,  and  the  landlord  coming 
down  on  us  for  the  rent.  Oh,  chiernah,  what'll  become  of  us? 
It's  it  that's  the  black  business." 

In  the  meantime,  honest  Patchy  was  bolting  the  rashers 
with  a  humorous  expression  of  countenance,  which  was  irresis- 
tible when  contrasted  with  the  vindictive  glare  which  the  miser 
from  time  to  time  turned  upon  him.  Whenever  he  caught  the 
old  fellow's  eye,  he  gave  him  a  comic  wink  and  a  nod  which, 
in  the  state  of  his  mind  at  the  time,  nearly  drove  him  furi- 
ous. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  what's  this  your  name  is  ? — Darby,  Darby 
Soolaghan.  Well,  Darby,  upon  my  "reputaytion  as  an  honest 
man,  I  have  ett  many  a  good  rasher  in  ray  day,  but  the  lues 
of  this  never  went  down  the  red  lane  (throat) ;  and  it's  h.  ck 
and  grace  your  daicent  woman  of  a  wife  will  have  for  help)  ig 
the  poor  Baccach  to  these  two  pounds  of  it,  not  forgetting  >  ae 
fine  farral  of  arran  (bread)  that  she  put  along  wid  it.  J  nd 
you  rear  and  feed  the  pigs  yourself,  Darby  ?" 

"Carry  on,"  replied  Darby,  looking  furiously  at  the  wi'e  ; 
"  carry  on,  but  she'll  hear  of  it." 

"  Well  now,"  said  Patchy,  who  had  nearly  dispatched  the 
rasher,  "weren't  you  a  penurious  old  scoundrel — ay,  and  a 
hard-hearted  one  to  boot — to  take  advantage  of  the  Captain's 
Illness,  and  refuse  to  pay  your  engagement  to  him  ?  I  now  ax 
you  a  question  :  Is  this  the  first  time  your  cattle  were  taken 
from  you  ?  Answer  me  the  truth." 

"  Well,  no,  it  is  not ;  but  anyhow  I'll  never  see  them  again, 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREE.  M 

I  know,  and  then  we're  mined.  Bat  this  is  Shane  Bearnah'i 
doin's  ;  he's  as  great  a  thief  of  cows  and  horse*  as  Cahir  ns 
Cappul  himself,  oh  chiernah  !" 

"  Dhomno  orth,  you  yellow  disciple,  will  yon  give  over  grui> 
tin*  aad  groania',"  exclaimed  Patchy  ;  "  answer  me  directly. 
Is  this  the  second  time  your  cows  were  taken  ?" 

"  It  is.     Blessed  Father,  what  will  become  of  us  ?" 

"And  when  they  were  taken  first,  did  you  get  them 
back  r 

"  I  did,  I  did  ;  bekase  I  then  paid  my  agreement." 

"  Then   the  Captain  kept  his  word  wid  you  ?" 

*'  He  did,  indeed  ;  when  he  heerd  of  it,  they  were  back  with 
me  in  forty-eight  hours." 

"  And  you  broke  your  word  wid  him — refused  to  stand  br 
him  when  he  was  sick,  and  not  able  to  act  for  himself.  The 
devil's  cure  to  you,  then,  and  that's  my  compassion  for  you. 
You  skamin'  ould  sinner,  do  you  think  I  don't  know  you  well  7 
Doesn't  the  wide  world  know  you,  and  that  you're  as  great  • 
scrub  as  your  wife's  a  daiceut  woman?  Why  didn't  you 
puy  what  you  promised  to  pay  ?  Answer  me  that  1" 

"  I  hadn't  it ;  I  couldn't  afford  it." 

"  That's  a  lie,  Darby  ;  every  one  knows  you're  wealthy, 
and  how  you  get  your  wealth,  by  sellin'  out  provisions  on  dear, 
summers  at  three  prices  to  the  poor  ;  but  listen  — pay  me  up 
your  arrears  to  the  Captain  before  I  lave  the  house,  and,  al 
though  I  never  laid  my  eyes  upon  him  or  one  of  his  men,  I'll 
UEilertake,  through  my  acquaintance  wid  a  relation  of  his, 
that  your  cows  will  be  in  your  own  byre  widin  a  few  days  at 
least ;  and  this  I  engage  not  for  your  sake,  but  for  the  sake 
of  your  daicent,  kind-hearted  wife,  and  your  innocent  childer 
there.  How  many  have  yen  of  them,  Mrs.  Soolaghan?"  he 
inquired  from  the  good  woman. 

"Troth,  nine  o'  them!   but  there's  none  in  the  houee  at 


86  RKDMOND   COUXT    o'HANLOX, 

present  barrin  these  two  little  girleens  ;  the  rest,  poor  things 
is  all  hunting  afther  the  cows." 

"There's  no  use  in  that,"  replied  Patchy.  "If  Shane 
Bearnah*  has  got  them,  no  one  but  the  Captain  can  have 
them  brought  back  to  you.  However,  pay  attention  to 
I  have  said,  and  maybe  it'll  be  betther  for  yon 


"  That  is,  give  away  a  sartinty  for  an  unsartinty.  I'm  not 
the  fool  to  do  it,"  replied  Darby.  "What  do  you  know 
about  them  ?  Ay,  indeed,  give  my  money  to  you,  a  vagabone 
tomenther,  that  may  never  show  his  face  to  us  again.  Oh, 
catch  me  at  it  1" 

A  long  altercation  took  place  between  him  and  his  wife, 
who,  aided  by  Patchy,  at  length  succeeded  in  prevailing  upon 
him  to  intrust  the  arrears  of  his  black  mail  to  the  latter,  who 
having  secured  it  in  his  pocket,  said  with  a  grin  : 

*  Shane  Bearnah  was  one  of  the  chief  men  in  the  great  Bapparee'i 
gang.  His  department  was  the  stealing  of  cows  and  horses,  and  every 
description  of  the  more  important  domestic  animals  ;  but,  indeed,  his 
thefts  were  principally  confined  to  the  former,  as  being  the  most  lu- 
trative,  and  the  more  easily  conveyed  from  one  part  of  the  kingdom 
to  another.  He  was  second  only,  as  a  thief  of  this  description,  to  the 
celebrated  Cahir  na  Cappul,  or  Charles  Dempsey,  who  was  born  near 
Ballybrittas.  in  the  Queen's  County.  Shane  Bearnah  has  no  distinct 
biography,  as  Cahir  na  Cappul  (Charles  of  the  Horses)  has  ;  but  his  local 
celebrity,  and  the  traditions  of  his  exploits  in  various  parts  of  the  North 
of  Ireland,  are  perhaps  equal  to  those  of  his  great  rival  and  contem- 
porary. Caves,  and  isolated  spots  of  green  pasture,  in  the  recesses  of 
some  of  the  Northern  mountains,  are  still  pointed  out  as  Shane  Bear' 
nah't  Stables,  or,  in  other  words,  as  the  localities  in  which  he  used  to 
conceal  his  stolen  horses.  One  of  them  is  to  be  found  in  that  long 
range  called  the  Sliebeen  Mountains,  which  separate  a  portion  of  Ty- 
rone and  Monaghan  from  each  other.  It  is  said  of  Shane  Bearnah, 
that  he  wan  born  without  teeth  ;  but  that  he  could,  notwithstanding 
the  want  of  them,  bite  a  piece  out  of  a  thin  plate  of  Iron  with  » 
little  difficulty  aa  if  it  had  been  gingerbread. 


TBK    IRISH    RAJ-PARKS.  61 

"Now,  you  devil's  limb  of  a  miser,  how  do  you  know  whethei 
»ou'll  ever  lay  eye  on  either  cows  or  money  again  ?" 

"  I'll  hunt  you  through  the  kingdom,  or  I  will,"  replied 
Darby,  perfectly  appalled  at  the  threat.  "  I'll  send  the  sogen 
afther  you,  and  swear  that  your'e  a  Rapparee  in  disguise." 

"  Well,  you  ould  sinner,"  said  Patchy,  "  for  the  sake  of  your 
wife  and  family,  I'll  do  what  I  can  for  you  ;  but  it's  now  be- 
tween the  two  lights,*  and  I  must  be  goin'.  In  the  manetime, 
thank  yon,  Mrs.  Soolaghan,  for  your  kindness  to  the  poor 
Baccach.  I  hope  you'll  have  no  occasion  to  be  sorry  for  it. 
Good-bye,  ma'am,  and  good-bye  to  you,  you  ungrateful  ould 
ichamer  ;  maybe  I'll  do  betther  for  you  than  you  desarve." 

"  For  God's  sake  do,"  replied  the  wife  ;  "  for  if  you  have 
betrayed  us  or  taken  us  in,  little  you  know  the  life  I'll  lead 
*n  account  of  it." 

Patchy  then  took  his  leave  of  them,  and  departed  on  hia 
more  important  mission. 

The  night  set  in  very  dark,  and  Patchy  resumed  his  journey 
along  the  road,  which  at  that  time  led  by  a  rather  circuitous 
road  to  the  town  of  Newry.  Having  gone  forward  a  few 
miles,  he  struck  off  the  highway  by  one  of  those  old  unfre- 
quented paths,  which  the  slight  improvements  in  roadmaking 
that  were  even  then  beginning  to  appear,  had  caused  to  be 
abandoned.  There  were  few  houses,  as  he  proceeded,  around 
or  near  him  ;  the  country  was  very  much  covered  with  wood, 
and  had  altogether,  even  in  daylight,  a  solitary  and  desolate 
"tspect.  The  wild  and  rugged  outline  of  the  old  road,  now 
choked  up,  as  it  was,  by  weeds,  and  almost  covered  with  rank 
glass  and  brambles,  was,  however,  quite  familiar  to  him,  and 
he  advanced  into  the  lonely  region  before  h  m  with  more  ease 
and  speed  than  might  have  been  expected.  We  shoald  have 
•ud  that  a  portion  of  the  ground  through  which  this  ran,  had 
*  A  common  expression  for  twilight 


68  REDMOND    COUNT   o'HANLON, 

been  recently  cultivated,  so  that,  in  point  of  fact,  it  was  im- 
possible for  a  stranger  to  imagine  for  a  moment  that  a  road, 
no  matter  how  rude,  had  ever  traversed  that  direction  at  all. 
It  was  no  easy  task,  then,  to  know  from  what  part  of  the  new 
highway  the  turn  across  the  fields  toward  it  should  be  made, 
especially  at  night.  To  a  stranger  the  matter  was  an  im 
possibility,  for  hi  consequence  of  the  district  through  which  it 
ran  having  been  scarcely  ever  inhabited,  the  very  recollection 
of  it  had  been  nearly  forgotten.  In  the  meantime  Patchy  strug- 
gled on,  not  certainly  without  a  good  deal  of  difficulty,  until 
he  had  advanced  about  four  miles,  when  the  wood  became 
denser,  and  the  path  more  indistinct  and  difficult.  He  now 
knew  that  he  had  not  much  farther  to  go,  and  after  losing  some 
time  hi  searching  about,  he  came  upon  a  rope,  by  which,  through 
many  intricate  and  apparently  inaccessible  passages,  he  was 
enabled  to  reach  a  thick  and  impervious  mass  of  underwood, 
BO  closely  woven  together,  that  it  took. some  minutes  to  find 
the  private  passage.  Having  found  it,  he  went  on,  slightly 
stooping  until  he  reached  a  large  clump  of  immense  fern, 
through  which  he  made  his  way  by  putting  it  aside  with  his 
hands.  Immediately  behind  this  was  an  opening  to  a  cavern, 
into  which  he  at  once  entered.  He  now  knew  his  position, 
and  proceeded  accordingly.  Having  advanced  about  ten 
yards  or  so,  he  turned  by  a  sharp  angle  that  led  to  the  right, 
and  having  followed  this  about  six  or  eight  yards  more,  he 
found  it  diverged  to  the  left,  when  he  saw  a  dim  light  in  the 
distance.  Thus  it  happened  that  from  the  angular  and  indirect 
nature  of  the  entrance,  it  was  impossible  that  any  light,  how- 
ever brilliant,  in  the  centre  of  the  cavern,  could  be  seen  until 
the  individual  approaching  it  had  come  into  a  right  line  with 
it.  This,  however  Patchy  had  not  yet  done.  The  first  light 
visible  was  not  the  real  one.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  ingeniously 
pla  5ed  there  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  the  shadow  of  thi 


THE    IR'SU    RAPI  iREE.  69 

person  advancing  across  the  platform  adjoining  the  innermost 
recess  of  the  cavern,  which  was  the  occasional  rendezvous  of  tho 
Rapparees,  when  planning  their  operations  in  that  part  of  tho 
country.  So  strictly  vigilant  were  these  men  at  their  meet- 
ings here,  and  indeed  everywhere  else,  that  a  sentinel  was  al- 
ways placed  to  watch  the  platform  in  question,  and  the  mo- 
ment a  shadow  was  seen,  a  challenge  was  given  to  the  intru- 
der. Patchy  had  not  made  more  than  three  or  four  steps 
when  his  person  became  distinctly  visible,  and  in  an  instant  a 
voice  called  out,  in  stern  significant  tones,  that  could  not  be 
misunderstood,  "  Who  comes  here  ?"  and  a  man  immediately 
started  forward  with  a  loaded  blunderbuss  in  his  hand. 

"  A  friend  to  the  friends  of  my  country,"  replied  Patchy 
"  Be  aisy,  will  you  ?  It's  Patchy  that's  in  it." 

"  It's  the  voice  of  Patchy,  but  you  must  advance  and  show 
yourself ;  we  must  read  your  face,  Patchy,  for  fear  there  might 
be  no  more  of  Patchy  than  his  tongue  about  you." 

"  Ah,  Quee  Harry,  is  it  you  ?"  said  Patchy,  advancing  and 
shaking  hands  with  him  ;  then  entering  the  inner  cavern,  he 
proceeded  :  "  That's  your  plan,  comrades  ;  keep  a  sharp  look- 
out, and  reason  good  you  should  !  You  have  the  wealth  of 
the  country,  the  government,  and  the  sogers,  on  watch  for  you  ; 
so  you  see,  as  I  said,  you  must  have  both  your  eyes  and  your 
ears  about  you.  Well,  and  are  you  all  safe  ?  None  of  you 
hanged  yet,  I  hope  P 

"  Not  one,  Patchy,  nor  no  danger  of  it ;  we'll  turn  a  corner 
OQ  them  at  the  long  run." 

"  So  you  will,  plaise  God  ;  sure  it's  all  for  the  good  of  the 
country  that  you're  actin'  as  you're  doin'.  May  the  Lord  re- 
ward you,  and  keep  you  from  that  worst  and  roughest  of 
all  blackguard  weeds,  by  name — hemp.  But  where's  the  Cap 
tain  ?  I  don't  see  him  here.  All's  right  wid  him,  I  hope  1" 

"  All's  right,  Patchy  ;  he  is  out  to-night  to  meet  a  geutlemno 


70  REDMOND   COUNT   o'lUXLOX, 

on  the  Dew  road  tha  intends  to  lend  him  two  or  three  hundred 
pounds.  He — the  gentleman  I  mane — is  to  have  three  sogera 
wid  him  for  protection ;  but  that  doesn't  signify  much,  jekase 
the  Captain  has  Shane  Bearnah,  James  Butler,  and  strong 
John  M'Pherson,*  all  well  armed,  along  wid  him,  and  L  there 
was  three  sogers  more  against  them,  it  'ud  make  little  differ. 
Here,  Patchy,  won't  you  have  a  gauliogue  of  the  cratur  to 
warm  your  heart  after  your  dark  and  ugly  journey  ?" 

"  I  think  I  ought,"  said  Patchy,  "  and,  in  truth,  a  dark  and 
ugly  journey  it  is ;  so  here's  wishin'  us  all  long  life  and  good 
health,  and  that  none  of  us  may  ever  swallow  lead  or  see  his 
own  funeral.  Chiernah  !  but  that's  the  stuff,  and  it's  bought 
for  three  tunes  less  than  nothin'." 

The  bottle  was  then  sent  about,  but  with  great  moderation  ; 
for  drunkenness,  when  thrice  repeated,  was  followed  by  ex- 
pulsion from  the  gang.  It  is  singular  to  reflect  upon  the 
strange  perversion  and  involution  of  moral  feeling  by  which 
this  desperate  and  terrible  confraternity  was  regulated.  The 
three  great  principles  of  their  lawless  existence  were  such  as 
would  reflect  honor  upon  the  most  refined  associations,  and 
the  most  intellectual  institutions  of  modern  civilization.  These 
were  :  first,  sobriety  ;  secondly,  a  resolution  to  avoid  the 
shedding  of  human  blood  ;  and,  thirdly,  a  solemn  promise  never 
to  insult  or  offer  outrage  to  woman,  but  in  every  instance  to 
protect  her.  Yet,  upon  the  basis  of  principles  involving  so 
much  that  was  noble  and  lofty  in  morality,  was  erected  such 
a  superstructure  of  theft  and  robbery  as  Irelan  1  never  sa  w, 
either  before  the  period  we  write  of  or  since. 

The  present  meeting  was  an  annual  one  ;  and  such  was  the 

alarmed  state  of  the  country,  and  so  frequent  were  the  attempts 

made  to  disperse,  or  rather  secure  this  celebrated  and  terrible 

gang,  but,  above  all,  their  leader,  that  they  felt  it  would  not 

•  The**  are  real  characters,  ai;d  were  port  of  his  gang. 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARKK.  1 

se  safe  to  meet  except  on  great  or  rare  occasions,  even  in  tin* 
remote  and  unknown  cavern.  At  that,  period  it  was  the  last 
wild  recess  left  them  Thich  had  not  been,  one  after  another, 
discovered,  and  their  anxiety  to  preserve  the  secret  of  its  ex- 
istence was  great  in  proportion  to  the  danger  which  its  dis- 
covery would  have  brought  upon  them.  There  were  present 
on  this  occasion  none  but  the  leaders  of  the  wild  and  savage 
banditti  that  were  then  dispersed  over  all  parts  of  the  king- 
dom for  to  none  else  would  the  secret  of  their  present  place  of 
meeting  be  communicated.  Neither  was  the  observance  of  the 
three  principles  we  have  alluded  to  made  anything  like  a 
matter  of  conscience  by  a  great  number  of  the  subordinate 
robbers,  who  frequently  violated  every  one  of  them,  or,  in  other 
words,  committed  murder,  fell  into  drunken  excesses,  and 
threatened  females  with  outrage  and  cruelty.  The  last,  bow- 
ever,  was  certainly  the  rarest  of  their  crimes. 

Within  the  range  of  the  wide  district  over  which  the  sway 
of  the  great  Rapparee  of  whom  we  write  prevailed  there  was 
scarcely  a  single  exception  ever  known — we  believe  only  one — 
against  the  faithful  adherence  to  the  very  letter  as  well  as  the 
ppirit  of  these  three  fundamental  regulations  that  he  laid  down 
for  their  conduct.  This  was  owing,  as  we  have  every  reason 
to  believe,  to  the  fact  that  their  leader  was  a  gentleman  of 
a  high  and  ancient  Irish  family,  one  of  whose  ancestors  wai 
knighted  by  Queen  Elizabeth  for  important  services  rendered 
to  her  cause.  And  we  may  add  here,  that  another  of  the  de- 
scendants of  his  family,  when  George  the  Fourth  visited  tliia 
country,  claimed  his  right  of  hereditary  standard-bearer  for 
Ireland,  north  of  the  Boyne,  and  had  his  claim  admitted  by 
my  late  friends  Ulster  King-at-Arms,  Sir  William  Betham. 

The  appearance  of  the  cavern  in  which  they  were  assembled 
was  very  simple,  and  had  nothing  extraordinary  about  it  ex- 
cept iU  large  and  ample  sp^cc.  Not  ft  stalactite  depended  from 


ft  REDMOND    COUNT    o'HA.VLOX, 

the  roof;  but  as  a  compensation  for  its  want  of  natural 
arnaments,  it  was  as  dry  as  powder.  If  nature  left  it  naked, 
however,  art  had  supplied  the  deficiency.  It  was,  in  fact> 
not  only  a  place  of  rendezvous,  but  a  storehouse  of  arms,  am- 
munition, and  such  a  variety  of  diferent  costumes  as  would 
puzzle  and  confound  a  modern  pawnbroker.  Every  garb  of 
the  day  was  there,  hanging  from  pegs  driven  into  the  sides  of 
the  cavern — from  that  of  the  tattered  beggar  to  the  rich  and 
fashionable  apparel  of  the  wealthy  gentleman,  and  from  that 
of  the  common  soldier  to  the  exact  uniform  of  his  superior 
officers.  The  last  were  principally  the  property  of  their  cel- 
ebrated leader,  who  assumed  them  all  on  several  occasions 
during  the  extraordinary  and  almost  incredible  variety  of  his 
exploits.  Here  also  was  their  magazine,  which  consisted  of  a 
great  variety  of  firearms,  all  carefully  oiled  and  wrapped  in  flap- 
nel,  so  as  to  prevent  them  from  becoming  useless  or  dangerous 
by  damp  or  rust,  together  with  a  considerable  portion  of  gunpow- 
der, preserved  with  equal  care.  Such  large  sums  of  money,  too, 
and  all  the  valuable  plate  which  they  had  plundered  from  the 
gentry  of  the  country,  were  deposited  here  for  security,  until 
the  plate  at  least  could  be  melted  down  and  safely  disposed 
of  ;  and  for  this  purpose  they  had  crucibles,  and  all  the  other 
necessary  apparatus.  The  particular  place,  however,  in  which 
the  treasure  was  deposited,  being  considered  by  their  chief  a 
temptation  probably  too  strong  for  the  honesty  of  some  of 
them,  was  a  secret  known  only  to  himself  and  Shane  Bearuah, 
his  confidant,  and  the  next  in  command. 

Having  thus  described  the  place  of  their  annual  and  othei 
extraordinary  meetings,  we  will  now  recite  the  names  and  pe- 
culiar pursuits  of  those  who  were  there  asseml  led,  for  the  pur- 
pose, as  we  have  said,  of  debating  upon  the  com  -e  of  their 
proceedings  during  the  next  campaign  ;  but  it  is  to  be  re- 
membered that  their  chief,  together  with  three  others  :  to  wit, 


TH«   IRISH    RAPPARKE.  T5 

Shane  Bearnah,  James  Butler,  and  strong  John  M'P  icrson, 
were  then  absent,  being  engaged  in  the  execution  of  a  robbery. 
Neither  is  it  to  be  forgotten  that  the  names  we  are  about  to 
mention,  as  well  as  those  we  have  given,  are  authentic  and  his- 
torical. The  first  in  importance  and  in  fame,  at  that  period 
at  least,  although  seldom  mentioned  now,  was  Captain  Power, 
so  called,  not  from  any  military  title  he  had  ever  received,  but  in 
consequence  of  his  position  as  the  head  and  commander  of  the 
Munster  robbers,  or  Rapparees.  He  was  born  at  Kilvallen, 
in  the  county  of  Cork,  and  was  the  son  of  a  gentleman  who 
possessed  a  good  freehold  estate  at  that  place.  He  had  had 
a  quarrel  with  his  brother,  after  which  he  got  into  a  lawsuit, 
which  he  lost.  A  writ  of  contempt  of  court  having  been  is- 
sued against  him,  he  spurned  and  defied  its  authority,  and,  as 
K  matter  of  course,  was  outlawed.  After  some  time  he  re- 
turued  home, — and  rather  than  be  a  burthen  to  his  relations, 
took  to  the  highway,  and  became  the  most  celebrated  robber 
that  Munster  ever  produced.  Like  the  great  Rapparee  who 
is  the  hero  of  this  narrative,  he  never  shed  blood,  and  was  re- 
markable for  his  kindness  and  charity  to  the  poor.  After  he 
had  been  on  the  highway  for  some  time,  he  was  offered  a  par- 
don through  the  intercession  of  his  friends  ;  but  feeling  an 
irresistible  impulse  for  a  life  of  adventure,  he  refused  the 
mercy  that  was  extended  to  him,  and  preferred  the  wild  and 
excitable  life  of  a  bandit.  He  had  come  down  from  Munster 
to  visit  and  see  the  great  northern  robber,  from  motives  of 
curiosity  and  admiration.  Their  actual  meeting,  whilst  each 
was  ignorant  of  the  person  of  the  other,  is  so  full  of  interest 
and  romance,  that  we  may  probably  give  it  on  some  future  oc- 
casion. He  remained  with  his  northern  brother  for  about 
twelve  months,  and  is  now  present  more  as  his  friend  than  oa 
one  of  his  gang.  First,  then,  on  this  occasion,  we  will  men- 
tion him 


f4  REDMOND   CuCNT   0'HA<LO», 

Captain  Power,  a  Gentleman  Rapparee. 

Paul  Liddy,  a  Gentleman  Rapparee. 

William  Peters,  alias  Delany. 

Charles  Dempsey,  alias  Cahir  na  Cappul,  the  renowned  Hone-stealor, 

introduced  into  his  novel  of  "the  Boyne  Water,''  by  John  Banim. 
Manus  M'O'Neil  the  Gold-finder,  introduced  into  "Suil  Duv,"  bj 

Gerald  Griffin, 

Strong  John  McPherson,  j 

Bhane  Bearnah,  of  whom  above,  ;  at  present  out  with  their  leader. 
James  Butler,  ) 

John  Mulhone, 
James  Carrick, 

Quee  Harry  Donoghan,  the  Napper  (stealer,  prigger)  of  Ulster, 
Patrick  M'Tigh  (M'Teague), 
John  Reilly, 
Phil  Galloge, 
Pat  Mill, 

Arthur  O'Neil,  and 
The  famous  0' Kelly,  the  Kilkenny  man. 

Now,  most  of  these  men  have  personal  records  left  of  thetf 
lives  and  deaths.  They  held  high  but  subordinate  appoint- 
ments under  their  celebrated  chief,  and  such  of  them  as  have 
not  distinct  biographies,  are  incideutly  mentioned  by  their  clever 
and  graphic  biographer,  Cosgrave,  who  was  himself  their  con- 
temporary, and  if  we  are  to  be  guided  by  a  hint  in  what  pur- 
ports to  be  a  letter  to  him — evidently  written,  however,  by 
himself — there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  he  wis  one  of 
wrn  fraternity 


nil    IRISH    RAPPARIE.  16 


CHAPTER   V. 

WHKX  Patchy  noticed  Captain  Power,  who  was  then,  ai 
always,  in  the  garb  of  a  gentleman,  he  respectfully  touched  hia 
hat  to  him,  observing  as  he  did  it : 

"I  think  I  see  a  gentleman  here  who's  a  stranger  to  me — 
I'm  Patchy  Baccach,  sir,  the  setter — and  now  that  you  know 
/oae,  I  hope  you  won't  keep  the  advantage  of  me." 

41  Not  at  all,  Patchy,  I  have  heard  of  you  from  the  chief ; 
*  a  are  a  very  valuable  man,  Patchy — I'm  Captain  Power." 

"God  bless  my  sowl,  sir,"  replied  Patchy,  taking  off  his 
*at — "is  it  possible  that  the  great  Captain  Power  is  one 
>f  us?" 

"  Yes,  but  only  for  a  time,  Patchy.  I  thought  myself  at  the 
bead  of  my  profession,  Patchy,  and  I  came  down  here  to  have 
«\n  interview  with  the  Great  Northern  ;  but  I  soon  found  that 
clever  and  able  as  I  considered  myself,  I  had  much  to  learn 
from  him." 

"Well,  indeed,  I'm  not  surprised  at  that,  sir,"  replied 
Patchy,  "for  if  ever  there  was  a  maricle  at  the  busi.iess,  he 
is  one.  He  was  never  done  but  once,  and  that  was  by  the 
Dundalk  apprentice." 

"  How  was  that  ?"  asked  Power. 

41  Why,  sir,  there  was  a  merchant  in  Dundalk  who  had  a 
draft  on  another  in  Newry,  for  the  sum  of  two  hundred 
pounds.  Such  was  his  terror,  howandever,  of  the  Captain, 
that  he  was  afeard  either  to  go  for  the  money  himself,  or  to 
•end  for  it  by  another.  In  this  state  of  mind  he  was  one  day 
consultin'  wid  his  wife  as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done  in  the 
matter,  when  his  apprentice,  a  lad  about  sixteen,  happened  to 
•cerhear  them.  He  offered  to  go  for  the  cash,  and  laid,  ht 


1*  RKDMOVD   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

would  let  them  cut  the  ears  off  his  head  if  he  did  not  bring  H 
hofcie  «fe  to  them  Now,  both  the  merchant  and  his  wife 
knew  he  was  a  smart  chap,  and  always  had  his  wits  about 
him ;  so,  after  another  consultation,  they  agreed  to  let  him 
make  tLe  trial,  and  accordingly  gave  him  the  draft.  Well, 
sir,  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  saddle  an  ould  entire  horse, 
BO  lame  wid  the  spavy  that  he  could  hardly  go  a  mile  an 
hour,  an ,  what  was  worse  than  all,  the  brute,  from  sheer  vi- 
ciousness  and  a  hell-fire  temper,  would  suffer  neither  horse  nor 
man  to  cojie  near  him  on  the  road — the'  prentice  himself  bein' 
the  only  person  he  would  allow  to  handle  or  mount  him.  Well 
and  good ,  the  lad  got  two  pounds  changed  into  halfpence, 
which  he  tied  in  a  bag — one  half  in  each  end,  wid  a  string 
about  the  middle,  and  havin'  mounted  his  horse,  he  went  his 
way  towai'ls  Newry ;  when,  as  it  happened,  on  comin'  to  a 
lonely  part  of  the  road,  who  comes  up  wid  him  but  the  Cap- 
tain. The  chap  seemed  very  innocent,  and  soon  tould  him  the 
whole  story  of  the  money  ;  and  how  he  was  to  bring  it  back 
the  next  day.  The  Captain  said  it  was  wrong  of  him  to  men- 
tion the  circumstance  to  any  one,  for  'fraid  be  might  be  rob- 
bed ;  and  on  partin'  gave  him  a  guinea  to  drink  his  healtU 
and  hire  another  horse  if  he  wished. 

" '  When  do  you  expect  to  be  back,  my  lad,'  he  asked. 

" '  About  this  time  to-morrow,  sir,'  replied  the  boy ;  '  and 
tH'dad  I  wish  I  had  you  along  wid  me  all  the  way,  for  then  I'd 
have  no  fear  of  bein'  robbed  of  it.' 

"  All  right  so  far  ;  the  lad  got  to  Newry,  where  he  remain- 
ed all  night ;  and  the  next  morniu',  havin'  got  the  cash  in 
bank-notes,  he  sowed  them  up  in  the  linin'  of  his  waistcoat, 
and  set  out  on  his  return  home.  Well,  to  make  a  long  story 
short,  he  had  just  come  to  the  same  lonesome  part  of  the  road 
where  he  met  the  gentleman  the  Jay  before,  and,  shure  enough. 
(here  he  met  nun  again. 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARK  71 

"  Well,  my  good  boy/  said  the  Captain,  '  did  yoa  get  tin 
money  ?' 

" '  Bedad  I  did  so,  sir,'  replied  the  shaver,  '  every  peony.' 

" '  And  hew  did  you  get  it  ?'  asked  the  gentleman. 

" '  Faix,  in  hard  goold,'  said  the  other ;  '  and  here  I  have  it, 
*  hundred  in  each  end  o*  this  bag ;  but  I  wonldn't  tell  that, 
sir,  to  any  one  but  yourself,  for  'fraid  I  might  be  aised  of  it— • 
but  I  know  by  your  appearance  you're  a  gentleman,  and  that 

I  needn't  be  afeared  of  you.' 

" '  Yes,  but  hand  me  the  money,'  said  the  Captain,  '  till  1 
see  if  it's  all  right.' 

" '  I  know  it's  right,'  said  the  boy,  '  for  I  counted  it  myself ; 
and,  besides,  my  masther  made  me  take  an  oath,  before  I  left 
home,  that  afther  I  got  it  I  wonldn't  let  it  into  any  one's  handi 
but  my  own.' 

"  '  Hand  it  out  immediately,  said  the  Captain,  '  I  must  have 

a; 

"  But  sir,'  said  the  chap,  '  my  masther  will  blame  me  for  it, 
and  say  that  I  made  away  wid  it  myself.' 

" '  Deliver  the  money  immediately,  you  young  scoundrel,'  saye 
the  Captain,  pulling  out  a  pistol,  '  or  I'll  blow  your  brains  out.' 

" '  I  couldn't  think  of  doin'  sich  a  thing,'  says  the  youth ; 

I 1  promised  to  let  him  cut  my  ears  off  if  I  didn't  bring  it  safe 
to  him,  and  I  will,  too.' 

"  The  Captain  immediately  rode  up  to  him,  in  ordher  to  secure 
it,  but,  lo  and  behould  you,  the  devilish  ould  cappul  (horse)  the 
lad  was  on  turns  round  and  threw  out  at  him  and  his  horse, 
which  made  him  keep  his  distance  ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  the 
cunnin'  young  vagabone  moved  him  over  to  the  roadside,  and 
threw  the  bag  that  contained  the  coppers  across  the  hedge,  and 
a  good  distance  into  a  quagmire  that  happened  to  be  in  the 
place. 

*  '  If  yoi  want  to  get  it,  sir,'  says  he,  'you  must  go  for  it, 


18  REDMOND   COUNT   0  HANLOX, 

bekasc  I  tuck  an  oath  to  my  masthcr,  that  I  wouldi  t  give  it 
into  the  hands  of  any  one ;  aiid  now  he  can't  say  I  perjured 
myself.' 

"  The  Captain  immediately  lit  down  off  his  horse,  hooked 
him  to  the  branch  of  a  tree,  and  with  a  good  deal  of  time  and 
strugglin'  got  through  the  hedge,  and  after  that  had  quite  aa 
much  difficulty  hi  wadin'  through  the  quagmire.  This  ripe 
youth,  in  the  manetime,  unhooked  the  Captain's  fine  horse — 
mounted  him,  set  off  at  full  speed,  laving  him  two  pounds' 
worth  of  coppers  in  a  bag,  and  a  spavined  ould  garran,  as  full 
of  venom  and  mischief  as  an  egg  is  of  mate,  instead  of  the  two 
hundred  pounds  he  expected ;  and  what  was  betther  still,  rob- 
bin'  the  robber  of  his  fine  horse  before  his  own  face  into  the 
bargain.  There,  now,  is  the  only  case  in  which  the  Captain 
was  ever  done ;  but,  be  my  sowl,  he  was  done  there,  and  in 
ityle,  too." 

"But  did  he  ever  recover  his  "horse?"  asked  Captain 
Power. 

"  The  horse,"  replied  Patchy,  "  was  put  to  livery  in  Dun- 
dalk,  and  advertised  ;  bnt  I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  Cap- 
tain, for  a  reason  that  he  had,  never  claimed  him — but  he 
wrote  a  letter  widout  a  name  to  his  masther,  statin'  that  his 
owner  made  a  present  of  him  to  the  young  rogue,  in  reward 
for  his  cleverness  and  ingenuity.  He  never  can  tell  that  story 
himself  widout  laughin'  heartily,  and  wishin'  that  he  had  the 
trainin'  of  the  lad." 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  these  worthy  Rapparees  sat 
here  without  the  necessary  requisites  to  keep  them  comforta- 
ble. There  was  a  large  fire,  around  which  they  disposed  th  era- 
selves  on  such  temporary  seats  as  thej  could  procure,  together 
with  an  ample  stock  of  provisions  and  other  refreshments,  such 
as  wine,  whisky,  brandy,  and  malt  liquor,  in  abundance.  Of 
those  they  partook — some  sparingly,  some  more  freely — but 


TIME    IU3R    RAPPAREK.  Tf 

tot  one  to  excess  or  intoxication  ;  for  on  this  necessary  point 
their  Captain  kept  them  in  an  excellent  state  of  discipline 

"  Come,  my  bowld  comrades,"  said  Patchy,  "  let  us  havt 
a  glass  of  comfort,  and  amnse  ourselves  as  well  as  we  can  un 
til  the  Captain  and  the  others  come  back.  Captain  Power, 
here's  long  life,  good  health,  and  a  happy  death-bed  to  you  ; 
and,  as  I  said  before,  may  none  of  as  ever  see  his  own  funeral  I 
Amin,  a  chiernah .'" 

This  was  drank,  and  Patchy  proceeded  :  "  Come,  Billy  Pe- 
ters, or  Delany,  or  whatsomever  yon  call  yourself,  let  as  hear 
*  little  of  your  skill  and  experience.  You're  nearly  as  great 
&  horse-fltealer  as  Cahir  na  Cappul  there." 

"  Me  !"  replied  Cahir,  in  his  broken  English — a  man,  by  the 
ray,  in  every  lineament  of  whose  face  nature  had  set  the 
*tamp  of  thief  and  robber — "  me,  Patchy — fwhy  now,  Patchy, 
don't  she  knows  dat  I  never  staled  a  baste  in  my  life.  Sura 
I  haven't  gotten  no  conscience  about  stalin'  'em — I  never 
staled  any,  sore." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  stale  them  yourself,  Cahir,  you  know 
who  does,  so  that  it  all  comes  to  the  same  thing.  But  you, 
Billy  Peters,  in  the  manetime,  tell  us  something  to  amuse  us 
and  pass  the  time." 

"  Troth,  the  story  I'm  goin'  to  tell,"  replied  Peters,  "  is  at 
much  Cahir  na  CappvTa  there  as  mine ;  but  sich  as  it  is  yon 
shull  have  it." 

"  Ay,  do,"  said  Cahir,  "  tell  her  up  for  de  gentlemin." 

"Well,  then,"  proceeded  Peters,  "some  time  after  I  got  th6 
bite  from  the  girl  that  was  whipped  through  the  town  of  Ma- 
ryborough, for  several  acts  of  thievin*  she  committed,  and  whc 

Dalrned  herself  upon  my  father  and  me  as  Captain  P 'i 

daughter,  I  became  acquainted  wid  worthy  Cahir  na  Cappu* 
here ;  and,  becoorse,  I  wasn't  long  a  croneen  c  f  his  until  I 
tack  a  strong  fancy  for  horse-fltcalinV 


80  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

*'  You  wor  a  big  tief  afore  you  comes  to  me,"  observed 
Cahir. 

"  Well,  if  I  was,  Cahir,  you  soon  improved  me.  Troth,  I 
was  nothing  till  I  knew  you  ;  but  no  matter.  Soon  afther  I 
got  rid  of  my  doxy,  it  so  happened  that  I  tuck  a  strong  fancj 
to  a  fine  sorrel  horse,  wid  a  bald  face  and  a  white  foot,  that 
belonged  to  a  gentleman  hi  the  county  of  Carlow.  I  got  into 
the  stable  one  night,  by  means  of  a  thing  that  I'm  sure,"  he 
added,  with  a  grin,  "  none  of  you  ever  heard  of — a  false  key. 
It  isn't,  nor  ever  was,  my  custom  to  do  a  thing  unfairly ;  so, 
says  I,  whispering  to  the  horse,  '  have  you  any  objection  to 
come  wid  me  and  see  the  world  ?'  Throth,  I  thought  it  but 
fair  and  reasonable  to  put  the  question  to  him  ;  but,  at  any 
rate,  devil  a  word  he  said  against  it.  'That's  all  right,'  saya 
I,  '  silence  gives  consent ;'  and  off  we  went  on  the  best  of  terms 
wid  each  other.  Well,  I  sowld  the  horse  at  a  good  price,  but 
the  toir  (pursuit)  was  soon  up  afther.me,  and  in  a  short  time  I 
was  lodged  in  Carlow  jail,  wid  every  proof  strong  against  me ; 
BO  that  I  saw  clearly  there  was  little  else  for  me  but  to  dance 
the  pleasant  jig  called  the  '  Hangman's  Hornpipe.'  Not  that 
I  was  much  troubled  about  that  either,  in  regard  that  I  wa» 
once  hanged  before,*  and  escaped  the  noose  twiist  afterward, 
and  all  by  raison  of  a  charm  I  got  against  hangin'  from  the 
same  woman  that  gave  Cahir  na  Cappul  there  the  enchant- 
ment that  enables  him,  wid  a  weeshy  whisper  in  his  ear,  to 
tame  the  wildest  and  wickedest  horse  that  ever  went  upon  four 
feet.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I  was  very  much  troubled  about  the 
matter,  and  hardly  knew  how  to  act.  At  last  I  bethought 
me  of  Cahir  here,  and  sent  to  let  him  know  how  I  was  fixed. 
I  desired  him  to  look  at  the  horse,  and  to  find  me  out  a  mare 
as  like  him  as  possible,  and  ,o  try  and  exchange  the  one  for 
the  other-  —otherwise  I  had  little  chance,  as  the  evidence  wai 
•  A  fact. 


THE   IRISH   KAFTAKKK.  8 

•o  clear  against  me.  Ah,  troth,  Cahir,  my  boy,  it's  y  >u  tha. 
wasn't  long  gettin'  me  the  mare  I  wanted,  nor  in  giving  in* 
itructions  how  to  have  the  thing  done.  The  trial  was  now 
within  a  day  or  two  of  comin'  on,  and  the  stolen  horse  was 
pnt  under  the  care  of  the  jailor,  as  is  usual,  till  it  should 
be  over.  When  Gator's  messenger  arrived,  he  pnt  ap  at  a 
place  near  the  riverside,  where  the  hostler  used  to  water 
the  horse.  He  had  got  acquainted  wid  him,  and  on  this  occa- 
fion  asked  him  in  to  have  a  drink,  to  which  he  willingly  con* 
gented,  lavin'  the  horse  at  the  door.  In  the  manetime,  the 
animals  were  exchanged  by  a  comrogue  of  the  messenger's ; 
and  when  the  hostler  came  out,  after  gettin'  his  mornin',  he 
mounted  the  mare  and  rode  her  to  the  stable  instead  of  the 
borse.  Well,  very  soon  afterward,  in  about  an  hour  or  so,  my 
trial  came  on,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  every  thing  went  against 
me — nothing  could  be  clearer  than  the  evidence;  and  the 
jndge  was  goin'  to  charge  the  jury,  when  I  thought  it  was 
time  to  speak  : 

"  'My  lord,'  says  I,  'every  man's  life  is  precious  to  him. 
You  all  think  me  guilty  ;  but  I  deny  it,  and  will  prove  my 
innocence,  if  you'll  grant  me  one  request.' 

"'What  is  it  ?'  asked  the  judge. 

"  '  It  is,  my  lord,'  says  I,  '  that  the  horse  shall  be  produced 
in  coort.  When  he  is,  if  I  don't  show  the  whole  world  that 
I'm  wrongfully  charged  with  the  crime  I'm  in  for,  why,  then, 
hang  me  up  as  an  example  to  all  the  horse-stealers  in  the  king- 
dom ;  and  I'll  go  to  my  death  willingly.' 

" '  But  how  could  the  production  of  the  horse  save  you  7 
said  the  judge. 

."'My  lord,'  says  I,  'I  cannot  tell  you  that  till  the  horet 
oojies  into  coort.' 

"  '  My  lord,'  says  my  lawyer,  '  as  the  poor  man  thinks  his  lift 
in'  on  it,  surely  his  request  ought  to  be  complied  with  * 
ft 


•i  REDMOND  COUNT  o'HAXLOH, 

" '  Very  well,'  said  the  judge,  smilin',  'let  the  norse  be  pro 
Juced  in  coort.' 

"  'The  horse  is  my  witness,  my  lord,'  says  I,  'and  will  bring 
Be  out  clear.' 

'"It  is  the  first  tune  I  ever  heard  of  such  a  witness,'  said 
the  judge,  langhin'  outright,  as  did  the  whole  coort ;  '  but  ai 
you  think  hell  serve  you,  it  is  but  right  that  you  should  hare 
his  testimony." 

"'We  shall  cross-examine  him  severely,'  said  the  op- 
posite counsel,  'and  it'll  go  hard  or  we'll  make  him  break 
down.' 

"  By  this  tune  the  whole  coort  was  in  roars  of  laughter,  and 
they  were  all  on  coals  to  see  what  would  happen.  Well,  in  a 
short  time  the  horse  was  brought  into  coort,  and  I  turned 
round  to  my  prosecutor. 

"  'Now,  sir,'  says  I,  'do  you  swear  positively  and  truly  that 
that  is  the  animal  you  lost  ?' 

" ' I  do,'  says  he  ;  'by  the  virtue  of  my  oath,  that  is  my 
"lorse — the  very  one  you  stole  from  me.' 

" '  By  the  virtue  of  your  oath,  sir,  whether  is  that  animal  a 
horse  or  a  mare  ?' 

" '  By  the  oath  I've  taken,'  he  says  again,  '  it's  a  horse,  and 
not  a  mare.  It  was  a  horse  I  lost,  and  that's  the  animal.' 

"  The  short  and  the  long  of  it  was,  that  the  animal  proved 
co  be  a  mare,  and  not  a  horse  at  all.  Such  a  scene  was  never 
witnessed.  Every  one  in  the  coort  was  in  convulsions,  with 
the  exception  of  my  prosecutor,  who  had  a  face  on  him  as  long 
as  to-day  and  to-morrow.  As  for  the  jury,  you'd  tie  them  wid 
three  straws. 

•' '  Gentlemen.'  said  the  judge,  addressin'  them  as  well  at 
he  could  speak  tor  laughin',  '  you  must  acquit  the  prisoner.' 

" '  We  do,  my  lord,'  said  the  foreman,  '  we  find  a  verdict  of 
•cqnittal.' 


THE    IRISH    RATTAHM.  Si 

* '  Let  him  be  immediately  discharged,  then '  said  the  judge. 
And  so  I  was,  comrades,  and — here  I  an  " 

"  Give  Peter  a  glass  for  that,"  said  Pat:hy  "  If  that  wasn't 
doin'  them,  I  dunna  what  was." 

"  But,  sure,  as  I  tould  you  all,  it  was  Cahir  net  Cappul 
here  that  desarres  the  credit  of  that ;  for  what  do  yon  think 
he  did?  Why,  he  painted  the  mare  so  like  the  horse,  that 
lirin'  eyes  couldn't  see  the  difference.  Ah,  Cahir  1  Cahir  1 
what  are  we  all  hi  the  horse-stalin'  line,  when  compared  wid 
xm  I'm  middliu'  myself,  and  Shane  Bearnah's  betther  still, 
bat  neither  of  as  could  hoald  a  candle  to  you  at  the  business." 

"  I  never  staled  a  horse  in  my  life,"  repeated  Cahir  ;  "  sure 
<very  one  knows  dat  I  never  stales  no  horses." 

"Do  you  take  apprentices  still,  Cabir?"  asked  Manna 
M'O'Neil,  the  gold-finder. 

"  Yes,  I  does,"  replied  Cahir,  "  when  I  gets  a  good  fwhee 
(fee)  wid  'em.  Many  o'  de  Munster  farmers  does  shend  der 
•hilders  to  me  to  larn  the  saicrits." 

"  And  what  fee  do  you  charge,  Cahir  ?" 

"Why,  frwhora  whifty  to  a  hundars  pounds,  and  fwhor  dat 
I  finishes  dem." 

"  Yes,  Cahir,"  observed  Power,  drily,  "  I  dare  say  you  do." 

This  may  seem  strange,  if  not  incredible,  to  our  readers  ;  but 
such  was  the  fact.  Some  of  the  Munster  farmers — men  of 
wealth  and  substance,  too — felt  no  scruple  whatsoever  in 
binding  their  sons  to  this  celebrated  cattle-stealer,  in  order 
i  lint  they  might  afterward  pursue  such  theft  as  a  trade.  Cahir, 
however,  by  his  multiplied  process  of  ingenuity,  almost  ele- 
vated it  to  the  rank  of  a  science,  although  he  himself  did  not 
knew  a  letter  in  the  alphabet. 

That  the  singular  fact  of  snch  apprenticeships  argued  • 
rery  loose  notion  of  the  rights  of  pro]  erty,  can  scarcely  be  de- 
wed ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  altogether  withoof' 


REDMOND   COUNT 

•omethiug  in  the  shape  of  apology.  The  consciousness  of 
wrong  it  is  that  constitutes  guilt ;  but  here  there  was  no  snch 
feeling. ,  The  possession  of  property  bj  Protestants  was  looked 
npon  as  an  act  of  injustice  by  the  Catholic  population  and  the 
country  at  large.  This  property,  they  said,  was  oppressively 
wrested  from  their  forefathers  and  themselves  by  arbitrary 
laws,  and  they  consequently  looked  upon  themselves  af  wholly 
possessing  the  justest  and  the  strongest  title  to  it.  Under 
those  circumstances,  and  with  such  impressions,  we  are  not  to 
feel  surprised  that  the  aboriginal  Irish  should  consider  them- 
selves morally  justified  in  despoiling  the  possessors  of  it  as  far 
as  they  possibly  could  with  safety  to  themselves.  This  feeling 
was  peculiarly  strong  in  Munster,  where  the  Rapparees  and 
Tories  actually  succeeded,  by  their  outrages  upon  both  person 
and  property,  in  frustrating  every  attempt  to  settle  that  country 
with  a  Protestant  population. 

"  Come,  Manus,  you  innocent  babe,  of  a  goold-finder,"  said 
Patchy,  "  have  you  none  of  your  exploits  to  tell  us  ?  Take 
a  glass,  man,  and  let  the  great  Captain  Power  hear  what  you 
can  do." 

"  Och  !"  replied  Manus,  with  a  shrug  that  indicated  great 
simplicity,  and  in  broken  English,  too,  "  sure  it's  a  simple  boy 
I  am,  and  knows  nuthin'  about  roguery — sarra  ting,  now.  I 
was  borned  honest,  so  I  was,  and  de  midwife  said,  when  sht 
seed  my  innocent  face — '  af  I  has  a  sowl  in  my  bodies,'  sayt 
she,  '  dat  child  will  come  to  great  wealt'  yet,  and  'ill  have  much 
arraghids  (money),  and  will  make  many  peoples  big  wit  mo- 
nies and  skileens  o'  goold  and  riches — dat  innocent  child  *ill — 
ay,  indeed,  now." 

"  Well,  but,  Manus,"  said  Patchy,  "  we  all  know  that  you're 
an  innocent  boy,  and  ha?  lashins  of  goold  and  jewels  at  youi 
disposal,  and  that  it's  tear  of  the  lord  o'  the  inarior  thatmakei 
ftra  sell  them  in  private,  poor  gorxon.  But  in  the  manetime,. 


TBC  IRISH    RAPPAREK.  85 

what  if  you'd  give  us  the  story  of  the  ingot  that  you  sould  to 
the  banker  in  Dublin." 

Manus  gave  another  shrug,  indicative  of  his  usual  simplicity, 
*nd  put  an  oafish  grin  upou  his  naturally  blank  features,  that 
gave  him  literally  the  expression  of  a  born  idot. 

11  Is  it  dat  I'm  to  toul  yez,  den  ?"  said  he. 

"  Ay,"  replied  Patchy,  "just  that  same.  Chiernah  !"  he  ad- 
ded, "  look  at  him  I  Wouldn't  any  one  think  that  he  didn't 
koow  Saturday  from  Sunday  ?  Go  on,  Manus  ;  Captain 
Power  wants  to  hear  it." 

'Well  den — yez  must  know  that  I  had  an  ingit  of  raal 
go<>ld,  that  was  in  woit  twelve  ounces  to  de  ouucels,  nayder 
more  nor  lesh  ;  and  be  in'  in  Dublin  upon  an  experition  to  rise 
monies  upon  her,  bekase  de  landlord  was  goin'  to  put  my  cat- 
tle* in  de  pound — do  you  see — to  sell'  em  aff  for  de  riut — bad 
luck  to  awl  rints  and  landlords,  any  way.  I  wint  in  de  dresh  of 
a  imddlin'  fanner,  wid  my  ingit  rowled  up  in  paper,  and  I  found 
him  shettin'  in  a  nice  room  by  himshefs. 

" '  Well,  my  man,'  says  he,  '  whats  do  ye  want  wid  me  ?' 

" '  Fwhy,  your  honor,'  shiz  I,  "  it's  well  known  dat  you  under- 
coinstand  all  de  outs  and  ins  about  monies,  an'  I  come  to  you 
out  o'  no  preference  or  respect  at  awl,  but  bekase  it's  uiisre- 
ported  be  awl  parties  dat  you're  a  shentleman.'  So  he  laughed. 

"  '  But  what  is  your  bizness  wid  me,  my  good  man  V  shii 
he. 

" '  Why,  de  landlord,  your  honor,  and  bad  luck  to  him  1' 

"  '  But  what  have  I  to  do  wid  your  landlord  ?'  he  shed. 

" '  Ah  1  your  worship,'  shiz  I,  '  he's  gooin'  to  drive  me,  af  ] 
don't  have  de  rint  for  him  be  next  Mouda.' 

"  '  And  how  can  I  help  yon,  my  poor  man  ?'  shiz.  he.  '  What 
do  you  want  wid  me  ?' 

"  '  I  wants  to  rise  some  monies  on  dis,  shir,'  shiz  I,  takin'  d« 
o*  de  paper  she  was  rowled  in.  '  She's  raal  goold, 


80  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

ihir,  and  has  been  in  oar  fwhamily  for  three  or  fwhor  genera* 
tions — bat  I'm  not  goin'  to  sell  her,  shir — but  to  rise  rnoniei 
on  her,  bekase,  shir,  dere's  an  owld  prowhecy  in  de  family,  dat 
if  we  part  wid  her  for  gud,  we'll  never  hare  luck  or  grace, 
ayder  here  or  thereafter.' 

" '  You  wish  to  lave  her  in  pledge,  den  ?'  shut  he. 

41 '  Dat's  de  very  ting,  yer  honor/  shiz  I. 

44 '  Well,  den,'  shiz  he,  '  you  must  wait  awhile,  till  I  shend  it 
to  my  gooldsmit,  to  try  whether  she's  raal  goold  or  not.' 

"  So  he  shent  it  off  wid  a  messenger,  and  in  a  short  time  he 
come  back  wit  a  uote  fwhrom  de  gooldsmit,  sayin'  dat  she  was 
rani  goold. 

44  '  Now,  how  much  do  want  to  rise  an  her  T  shiz  he. 

"  Well,  to  tell  de  troot,  I  axed  more  nor  I  knew  he  would 
give.  He  wanted  to  buy  her,  but  as  I  shed  befwhore,  I  twold 
him  I  only  wanted  to  rise  monies  enough  on  her  to  pay  d< 
rint,  and  save  my  brave  catties,  so  he  made  me  an  offer,  but  ] 
refused  to  take  it,  and  takin'  up  my  ingit,  I  rowled  her  agait 
in  de  papers,  and  left  him.  After  I  had  gone  frhom  him, 
mavrone,  oh,  but  I  begnn  to  repint,  so  takin'  out  de  brass 
ingit,  dat  was  gilt,  and  as  like  de  oder  as  two  pays,  I  went 
back. 

44 '  Plaise  your  honor,'  shit  I,  4 1  have  shanged  my  mind- 
Ill  take  your  offer ;  but  take  care  of  her  fwhor  me,  bekas* 
if  I  lost  her,  de  family  'ud  never  prospher,  nayder  here  nor 
thereafter.' 

'•  Wid  dat  he  paid  me  de  monies,  and  put  de  ingit  into  a 
press  widout  wanst  lookin'  at  her,  and  I  come  away  wid  mj 
raal  ingit  snug  in  my  pocket.  It  was  on  dat  day  de  flags  of 
Dublin  got  so  hot  for  my  poor  feet  dat  I  couldn't  remain  any 
time  in  dat  beautiful  city,  for  fears  o'  burnin'  my  soles  ;  so  I 
left  it,  and  wint  to  Connaught,  fere  de  devil  a  much  I  got; 
bekase  it's  a  j»oor  hole,  and  de  peoples  didn't  understand  Eu- 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREE  •) 

prfifih,  aldough  I  wished  to  pass  fwbor  a  gentleman  of  book* 
larnin',  dat  understood  nuttin'  brt  de  English  langridge,  and 
several  tings  o'  dat  kind." 

Many  other  anecdotes,  detailing  either  the  ingenuiij  or  dar 
ing  character  of  their  exploits,  were  narrated,  and  when  Maims 
had  concluded  his,  Patchy,  who  acted  also  as  their  cup-bearer 
and  butler,  resolved  to  reward  him  with  a  glass. 

"  Come,  my  poor  innocent  lad,"  said  he,  handing  him  a  bum- 
per, "  wet  your  whistle  wid  this — it's  no  counterfeit,  any  way, 
but  the  raal  stuff — and  here,  you  sentry,  that's  on  the  look-out 
there,  watchin'  for  shadows,  come  and  taste  something  that 
has  substance  in  it.  I  don't  think  the  sogers  will  run  away 
wid  us  to-night,  at  any  rate." 

Manus  took  off  his  glass  ;  and  the  man  who  discharged  the 
duty  of  sentinel  joined  them,  as  he  had  been  invited,  but  had 
scarcely  finished  his,  when  a  man  in  the  uniform  of  a  British 
officer  sprang  forward,  exclaiming  : 

"  Villains !  surrender  this  moment,  and  offer  no  resistance. 
Ton  are  my  prisoners.  I  arrest  you  in  the  king's  name  I" 

Every  man  present  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  secured  his  arms, 
and  in  a  moment  there  were  at  least  a  dozen  loaded  piece* 
presented  at  him. 

"  Stop— hold,  my  friends  1"  exclaimed  Power,  seconding  his 
words  with  a  commanding  motion  of  his  hand ;  "  keep  quiet, 
and  be  cool ;  injure  him  not  at  present,  until  we  shall  see  the 
upshot  of  this.  Yon  know  it  is  against  our  principles  to  shed 
blood  unnecessarily,  and  only  in  self-defense.  Let  me  speak  to 
the  gentleman — you  know  he  is  only  discharging  his  duty  ; 
but  we,  also,  hare  a  duty  to  discharge,  and  we  shall  discharge 
it  Now,  sir,"  he  added,  addressing  the  -fficer,  "what  if 
jrour  business  here  r* 

"To  arrest  and  secure  every  man  of  you,"  replied  the  offi- 
•cr :  resistance  on  your  part  is  worse  than  useless.  I  have 


88  BKDMOXD   COUNT   o'lUKLOM, 

your  retreat  here  surrounded   >y  a  company  of  soldiers  ;  BO 
that  your  escape  is  impossible." 

"  So  is  yours,"  replied  Power.  "  You  arc  an  Englishman, 
I  perceive,  by  your  accent  ?" 

"  I  am — I  do  not  deny  it." 

"  Well,  then,  you  are  our  prisoner  and  our  hostage  ;  sur- 
ronnd  and  disarm  him." 

The  officer,  who,  by  the  way,  had  a  pistol  in  each  hand, 
stepped  back. 

"  Forbear,"  said  he ;  "I  shall  take  at  least  two  lives  before 
1  surrender,  and  mine,  I  know,  you  may  take  also.  I  know, 
too,  that  you  may  overpower  me,  and  slay  me  where  I  stand, 
but  that  will  not  secure  yourselves  ;  for  among  my  men  it 
will  only  add  a  spirit  of  vengeance  to  a  sense  of  duty.  Now, 
mark  me,  I  have  a  proposal  to  make  ;  it  argues  neither  cour- 
age nor  gallantry  on  your  part  to  surround  and  overpower  by 
cumbers  a  single  man,  as  I  am.  Hearken  now,  if  you  be 
brave  men,  as  they  say  you  are.  If  there  be  any  one  indi- 
vidual among  yon  who  thinks  himself  stout  enough  to  take  me 
prisoner,  and  succeeds  in  doing  so,  I  will  submit  without  taking 
life  ;  but  if  there  be  not,  and  that  you  attempt  to  overpower 
me  by  numbers,  as  I  said,  then  most  assuredly  will  I  take  two 
lives  from  among  you,  perhaps  more,  for  my  sword  is  slurp 
and  trusty,  and  has  never  failed  me  yet." 

"Be  it  so,"  replied  Power  ;  "  it  is  a  fair  and  manly  chal 
lenge,  and  I  myself  accept  it  with  pleasure." 

41  Pardon  me,  my  friend  1"  exclaimed  Paul  Liddy,  another 
gentleman  Rapparee,  and,  except  M'Pherson,  considered  the 
rtrongest  and  most  active  man  in  Ireland,  as  well  as  the  most 
determined — "pardon  me,  my  friend.  In  anything  where 
courage  is  necessary,  no  man  conld  take  place  before  you  ;  yon 
•xe  stout,  too,  I  grant,  as  well  as  brave  ;  but  I  don't  think  that, 
with  all  your  strength,  and  all  your  bravery  to  boot,  and  I  do 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARtft.  89 

not  undervalue  either  the  one  or  the  other,  you'd  hare  any 
chance  with  that  powerful  officer.  No,  my  friend,  that  task 
naturally  falls  to  me,  and  I  must  hare  it." 

"  I  should  prefer  yon,"  observed  the  officer  ;  "  for  you  ap- 
pear to  me  to  be  one  of  the  strongest  and  finest  looking  men 
1  ever  saw." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  replied  Liddy  ;  "  if  I  secure  you  single- 
handed,  you  are  our  prisoner  and  hostage." 

"  And  if  I  secure  you  ?"  added  the  officer. 

"  Such  a  supposition  is  out  of  the  question,"  replied  Liddy  ; 
"  but  if  you  do,  we  will  allow  you  to  depart  in  safety,  upon 
the  condition  that  you  pledge  your  honor,  as  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman,  that  you  will  withdraw  your  men  :  for  upon  no 
other  condition  will  yon  ever  leave  this  place,  or,  at  least,  be 
set  at  large  from  among  us." 

"  That  is  to  say,  whether  I  win  or  lose,  your  decision  is  to 
go  against  me,"  replied  the  officer.  "  That  is  not  fair  ;  which 
of  you  is  the  Captain  ?  I  should  prefer  dealing  with  him." 

"  Our  Captain  is  not  here  at  present,"  replied  Liddy  ;  "  if 
he  were,  to  no  other  band  would  be  assigned  the  task  which  I 
am  about  to  undertake — a  task  which  to  him  would  be  an 
easy  one." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  stepping  back  into  the  clear  ground, 
"  come  on  ;  after  this  matter  shall  be  decided  we  will  talk 
upon  the  subject  of  withdrawing  my  men." 

He  then  put  his  pistols  in  his  breast  pockets,  placed  him- 
•elf  in  readiness,  and  desired  the  gigantic  Liddy  to  advance. 

The  contest  was  not  a  pugilistic  one,  but  simply  a  trial  ai 
to  which  of  them  could  seize,  put  down,  and  overmaster  the 
other,  so  as  to  make  him  admit  his  defeat,  and  yield  himself  a 
prisoner.  The  struggle  was,  indeed,  a  terrible  one  in  p  >int 
of  muscular  exertion,  activity,  skill,  and  power ;  and  so  in* 
nesdoua  and  equally  balanced  were  the  strains  and  effort*  o;i 


ffO  BXDMOHD  COUNT  O^AHLOlf, 

both  sides,  that  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  spectators  rose  aud 
fell  as  the  one  or  other  individual  prevailed  At  length,  after 
a  contest  of  fifteen  minutes,  one  of  Liddy's  legs  wa_s  forced  into 
a  position  which  put  him  somewhat  off  his  centre,  aud  quick 
as  lightning  his  opponent  availed  himself  of  the  circumstance, 
and  shot  him  with  great  violence  to  the  earth,  which  was  nearly 
as  hard  as  stone.  He  lay  stunned  for  a  time,  and  the  other, 
placing  his  foot  upon  his  body,  pointed  to  him,  and  said : 

"  Pray,  who  is  the  prisoner  now  ?" 

"  You  are,"  said  three  or  four  voices  behind  him,  and  ho 
found  himself  fast  pinioned. 

"  We  will  not  injure  you,  sir,"  said  Power  ;  "  but  we  shall 
tie  you  neck  and  heels  until  we  get  free  from  this  cavern.  We 
are  outlaws,  sir,  and  you  cannot  expect  us  to  observe  the  force 
of  any  law  or  principle  at  variance  with  our  own  safety.  As 
for  the  trial  of  strength  and  activity  which  has  just  taken 
place,  let  it  pass  as  an  idle  thing.  You  are  evidently  a  bra\? 
man,  and  a  stout  one  ;  but  we  must  consider  for  our  safety 
and  our  lives.  Get  the  cords  forward,  and  bind  him  fast." 

"  Ha  I"  exclaimed  the  officer,  in  his  own  voice,  who  at  once 
changed  the  whole  coutour  of  his  face  into  its  natural  ex* 
pression.  "  Well  done,  my  dear  Power  ;  any  other  conduct 
would  have  been  wrong — safety  before  everything.  There 
uow,  let  me  go ;  but  you  see  that  if  I  had  been  a  British 
officer,  and  acquainted  with  the  place  of  your  retreat,  I  could 
have  taken  every  man  of  you." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  describe  their  amazement  on  discovering 
that  it  was  their  own  Captain  who  had  thus  imposed  upon 
them. 

"  Good  heavens  1"  exclaimed  Power,  "  are  you  nothing  more 
than  a  mortal  man  ?" 

"  Nothing  more,"  replied  the  ether  ;  "  and,  I  think,  you 
will  admit  a  very  good  one,  too— as  he  must  be  who  could 


THE    IRISH    fUPPAREt.  91 

prove  an  overmatch  fur  the  brave  and  powerful  Paul  Liddy 
Raise  him  up,  poor  fellow.  I  hope  he  is  not  seriously  hurt." 

Paul,  however,  soon  recovered,  and  after  shaking  himself 
and.  feeling  his  bones,  declared  that,  with  the  exception  of  a 
riuging  in  his  ears,  he  felt  conscious  of  no  other  injury. 

"  Now,"  said  their  chief,  "  how  did  it  happen  that  I  was 
able  to  surprise  you  as  I  did  ?  for  that  is  a  serious  question." 

Patchy  now  advanced,  and,  with  rather  a  rueful  face,  took 
the  whole  blame  upon  himself,  and  gave  a  candid  account  of 
the  affair,  exactly  as  it  happened. 

"  I  asked  Pat  Mill,  who  was  on  guard,"  said  he,  "  to  come 
over  and  have  a  glass,  and  while  he  was  takin'  it,  you  boulted 
in  upon  us.  Chiemah,  but  you're  the  wonderful  man  ;  for  I 
believe  in  my  sowl  you  could  change  yourself  into  anything." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  other,  "  let  that  be  a  warning  to  you 
all ;  never  on  any  possible  occasion,  or  by  the  force  of  any 
temptation  whatsoever,  to  neglect  your  appointed  duties.  I 
shall  overlook  this  breach,  but  not  another.  Get  me  some 
food." 

The  three  individuals  who  had  been  out  with  him  u<.w  en- 
tered ;  but  not  without  being  duly  challenged.  They  and  their 
commander  then  sat  down,  and  did  ample  justice  to  the  sub- 
stantial fare  that  was  placed  before  them.  When  the  meal 
was  finished  the  Captain  desired  them  to  open  a  bottle  of  wine, 
of  which  he,  Power,  and  Liddy  partook. 

"  Well,  Liddy,"  said  he,  "  I  was  anxious  to  have  a  trial  of 
strength  with  yon,  and  I've  had  it.  You  are  a  stronger  man 
than  I  am,  but  you  have  neither  my  activity,  skill,  nor  energy  ; 
but,  in  the  meantime,  you  need  not  feel  abashed  by  being  put 
down  by  me.  Indeed,  it  was  chance  favored  me,  or  it  might 
have  been  otherwise." 

"  Did  you  succeed  to  night !"  asked  Power. 

M  Certainly.    They  prepared  for  resistance  ;  bat  I  ihoated 


09  REDMOND  COUNT  o'fUNLON, 

oat,  as  if  I  had  a  reinforcement  at  hand — '  Fire  yo  i,  there, 
from  the  shrubbery,  if  they  attempt  to  resist  1'  But  they  did 
not,  and  here  are  two  hundred  pounds  safe.  I  care  not  about 
it,  however.  I  am  grieved  and  vexed,  for  I  heard  a  tale  to- 
night that  has  filled  me  with  sorrow." 

"  What  1"  said  Liddy,  "  none  of  our  other  men  taken,  or 
our  retreat  discovered  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  the  Captain  ;  "  but  a  most  diabolical  outrage 
has  been  perpetrated  upon  one  of  my  best  friends — upon  the 
daughter  of  a  man  who  stood  by  me  in  the  day  of  my  distress 
with  good  faith  and  honor — I  mean  Brian  Callan,  whose 
daughter  has  been  forcibly  taken  away  by  that  unprincipled 
profligate,  Cornet  Lucas." 

"  Ay,"  said  Quee  Harry,  "  that's  the  scoundrel  who  swears 
he  will  never  rest  till  he  secures  you,  and  sends  your  head  to 
Armagh  jail." 

"I  met  young  M'Mahon  to-night," .proceeded  the  other, 
"  and  he  told  me  the  whole  story.  The  poor  fellow  is  in  a 
state  of  distraction,  and  swears  that  if  he  finds  out  Lucas  to 
be  the  author  of  the  outrage  he  will  shoot  him  stone  dead.  I 
told  him  he  was  mistaken,  and  that  Lucas  was  innocent  of 
it." 

"  And  why,  sir,"  said  Patchy,  "  did  you  do  so  f  Lucas  is 
the  man,  and  it  happens  that  I  can  tell  you  all  about  it.  He's 
after  that  good  and  beautiful  girl  for  months,  and  she  wasn't 
far  from  stabbin'  him  to  the  heart  in  her  father's  house  one 
day  not  long  ago.  I  was  at  the  back  windy,  and  seen  it  wid 
mine  own  eyes.  Why,  then,  did  you  tell  him  it  wasn't  Lucas 
that  done  it?" 

"  I  had  two  reasons,  Patchy  ;  the  first  was,  that  if  M'Mahon 
was  to  shoot  him  he  would  be  hanged  ;  and  the  second,  that 
I  wish  to  have  the  punishment  of  the  worthy  Cornet  as  my 
own  work.  Neither  will  I  take  the  scoundrel's  life.  Yon  all 


THB    BUSH   RArPARKK.  08 

k  jow  I  am  against  shedding  blood  from  both  feeling  and 
principle,  unless  in  defense  of  my  own  life,  which  is  an  act  of 
no1  f-pr enervation,  natural  not  only  to  man,  but  to  every  animal 
that  breathes.  I  shall  give  him  a  worse  punishment,  not* 
withstanding.  Now,  that  girl's  father,  Brian  Callan,  has  paid 
me  his  tribute  for  years,  and  specially  during  my  cripplehood, 
wben  he  generously  increased  it.  For  this  I  was  and  am 
solemnly  bound  to  preserve  all  his  movable  property  within 
doors  and  without ;  and  if  it  happens  to  be  taken  away  I  urn 
either  to  restore  it  or  pay  him  the  value  of  it.  It  is  true  that 
the  children  of  a  family  do  not  come  under  this  stipulation  ; 
but  that  matters  not.  So  help  me,  Heaven,  if  he  were  an 
utter  stranger  to  me,  no  matter  what  his  creed  or  religion,  I 
would  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  restore  his  child  and  punLsL 
the  villain  who  took  her  away." 

"  But  how  can  you  restore  her,  sir,  if  yon  don't  know  wha-e 
she  is?"  asked  Patchy. 

"  Believe  me,  Patchy,  I  shall  soon  find  out.  When  I  had 
my  protection  from  government  for  three  years,  through  the 
influence  of  Cornet  Montgomery  and  his  friends,  I  becama 
acquainted  with  an  intimate  friend  of  this  Lucas." 

"  Take  your  time,  sir,"  said  Patchy,  interrupting  him  ;  "  I 
can  tell  you  where  she  is,  and  that  is,  strange  as  you  may 
think  it,  in  the  very  heart  of  Armagh  barracks." 

"  Ay,  and  from  the  very  heart  of  Armagh  barracks  I  shall 
take  her,  Patchy — rest  assured  of  that ;  but,  in  the  mean- 
tune,  tell  me  all  you  know  cbout  the  transaction  f 

Patchy  then  gave  him  a  full  and  perfect  account  of  the  cir- 
cumstances, together  with  the  number  of  the  window,  reckon- 
ing from  the  corner  of  the  range,  not  oraitti  ig  the  fact  that 
he  would  find  three  round  stones,  each  of  about  two  pounds 
weight,  lying  together  exactly  under  it.  He  then  showed  him 
Cornet  Lucas's  protection,  which  the  other  said  he  would  keep 


N  BEDMOXD  COUNT  o'HANLOff, 

for  a  time,  bat  only  for  a  short  time,  as  he  said  it  might  bf 
useful  to  him  in  consequence  of  the  peculiar  situation  hi  which 
he  stood. 

"  But  now,  Patchy,"  said  he,  "  mark  me,  don't  breathe  a 
syllable  to  any  one  of  her  friends  concerning  the  place  of  her 
concealment,  not  even  to  her  father's  family,  or  her  lover, 
M'Mahon  ;  keep  it  a  profound  secret,  otherwise  you  will  ob- 
struct and  utterly  destroy  the  plan  I  have  conceived,  not  only 
for  her  liberation,  but  for  Lucas's  shame  aud  punishment." 

Patchy,  who  was  well  aware  of  the  force  and  energy  of  will 
which  characterized  the  Rapparee,  as  well  as  of  his  wonderful 
fertility  in  expedients,  promised  that  he  would  faithfully  ob- 
serve the  injunction  laid  upon  him,  although  he  understood 
not  its  purport.  Other  business  of  importance  to  themselvet 
and  their  designs  was  then  gone  into,  and  all  their  arrange 
Bents  aud  appointments  made  for  the  next  six  months. 


TH    MI9H    RAPPAMB 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  iiidividial  who  commanded  this  formidable  gang  of 
Kapparees  was,  considering  his  position  in  the  world  proba- 
bly the  most  extraordinary  man  of  his  age,  or  of  any  age  be- 
fore or  since.  Carte,  in  his  life  of  Ormond,  after  giving  an 
authentic  account  of  his  death,  states,  that  for  a  series  of 
many  years  he  kept  the  whole  province  of  Ulster,  with  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  Leinster,  in  such  a  state  of  terror  and 
alarm  as  was  almost  incredible.  He  asserts,  that  the  whole 
military  force  of  the  kingdom  was  not  able  to  apprehend  him, 
nor  to  preserve  the  peace  of  the  country,  or  establish  the  se- 
curity of  tife  and  property  so  long  as  he  lived.  It  is  trne  he 
^as  often  made  prisoner,  bat  he  never  failed,  by  the  exercise 
«*.  his  wit,  ingenuity,  or  courage,  to  escape  from  the  hands  of 
b;s  captors.  His  personal  and  mental  accomplishments  were 
amazing.  That,  however,  is  not  extraordinary ;  for,  as  we 
said,  the  man  was  not  only  a  gentleman  by  birth,  but  Count 
of  the  French  Empire — a  title  which  was  conferred  upon  him 
during  his  residence  in  that  country.  He  is  said  to  have  been 
the  most  perfect  specimen  of  a  man  in  the  kingdom.  He  waa 
well  educated,  and  could  speak  the  English,  Irish,  and  French 
languages  to  perfection.  His  athletic  powers,  strength,  and 
activity,  were  unrivaled,  but  if  there  was  anything  more  ex 
traordinary  about  him  than  another,  it  was  his  wonderful  Pro- 
tean power  of  assuming  all  characters  with  such  ease  and  effect, 
that  when  he  chose  to  discard  his  own,  and  assume  another, 
his  most  intimate  friend  could  not  recognize  him.  He  could 
pass  himself,  whenever  be  wished,  for  an  Englishman,  Scotch* 
•nan,  or  Frenchman,  without  the  slightest  risk  of  detection,  and 
Wth  was  thr  flexibility  of  the  mrscles  of  his  face,  tb^t  he  cooVJ 


06  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

transform  himself  into  an  old  man  of  seventy  with  scarcely  an 
effort.  He  is  said  to  have  been  the  handsomest  man  of  hii 
day,  and  of  the  most  perfect  symmetrv.  We  may  judge  of 
what  his  popularity  among  the  people  must  have  been,  when, 
notwithstanding  the  enormous  rewards  that  were  offered  by  the 
government  of  the  day  for  his  head,  living  or  dead,  he  was 
never  betrayed  during  a  period- of  about  twenty-five  years, 
either  by  any  of  the  people  or  his  own  gang.  The  sum  of 
five  hundred  pounds  had  been  offered  for  his  apprehension — 
equal  to  a  thousand  of  our  money — but  without  effect.  This, 
in  a  great  measure,  was  owing  to  his  generosity  to  the  poor 
and  struggling  people,  whom  he  frequently  assisted,  and  to  his 
liberality  in  sharing  his  plunder  with  his  own  men. 

Having  left  their  place  of  rendezvous,  his  intention  was  tc 
lose  no  time  in  rescuing  Rose  Callan  from  the  clutches  of  Lu- 
cas, for  which  he  had  formed  a  plan  that  was  at  least  a  feasible, 
if  not  a  complete  one.  In  order  to  accomplish  this  with  pro- 
per effect  and  success,  he  repaired  to  a  village  near  Four-Mile 
House,  between  Dundalk  and  Newry,  where  he  was  resolved 
to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  the  liberation  of  poor 
Rose  from  her  frightful  captivity.  Having  letters  to  writt . 
and  other  matters  to  arrange,  he  selected  the  cottage  of  a 
friendly  family  for  the  purpose.  Here,  however,  he  had  not 
remained  long,  when  a  young  girl  came  in,  with  looks  full  of 
terror,  and  exclaimed : — 

"Oh,  sir,  run  for  your  life ;  an  officer  and  a  whole  lot  o 
logers  is  comin'  to  the  house  !" 

It  was  at  the  time  scarcely  daybreak,  and  the  sun  had  not 
risen,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  see  a  person  at  any  considerable 
distance.  He  immediately  fled,  and  when  the  Captain  and 
twenty  men  from  Caradevlin  temporary  barracks  arrived  at 
the  house,  they  found  that  the  bird  had  flown.  In  order  for 
their  better  success  in  his  pursuit  and  capture,  they  had,  before 


THK   IRISH    RAPrARKK  07 

tearing  oarracks,  stripped  themselves  to  their  waistcoats,  and 
brought  nothing  with  them  but  their  muskets  and  bayonets, 
and  some  provisions  in  their  pockets.  Having  expressed  much 
indignation  at  his  escape,  they  were  about  to  retrace  their 
way,  when  they  heard  him  call  out  from  an  adjacent  hill,  bid- 
ding them  defiance.  This  was  an  egregious  piece  of  folly  on 
his  part,  but  frequent  success  had  made  him  daring,  and  he 
bos  been  known  to  bring  risk  and  danger  on  his  own  head,  by 
his  extraordinary  love  for  adventure,  and  a  reckless  confidence 
in  his  own  powers.  The  officer  in  command  immediately  dis- 
persed his  party  into  three  divisions,  and  resolved  to  give  him 
instant  pursuit.  He  himself,  with  ten  men,  were  to  maintain 
the  chase  in  the  direct  centre,  whilst  five  men  on  each  side 
were  to  form  the  wings  at  a  distance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

In  this  manner  the  pursuit  was  maintained  until  noon,  with* 
out  allowing  him  a  moment's  rest.  Several  of  the  men,  how- 
ever, became  exhausted  and  unable  to  continue  the  chase  at  so 
•evere  a  pace.  Only  four  were  able  to  keep  him  in  view — which 
they  did  notwithstanding  the  roughness  of  the  country  and  the 
difficulties  they  had  to  surmount  in  ascending  the  hills,  to  which 
he  took,  knowing  that  his  chances  in  the  open  and  inhabited 
country  would  have  been  much  against  him.  When  evening 
came  on  he  concealed  himself  in  a  clump  of  furze,  on  the  side  of 
of  a  hill,  which  was  covered  with  them,  hoping  to  escape  during 
the  night  to  a  small  village  about  half  a  mile  distant,  where  he 
knew  he  had  friends.  In  this  design  he  was  sadly  disappointed. 
His  pursuers,  although  he  had  outrun  them  half  a  mile,  sus- 
pecting that  he  had  concealed  himself,  discharged  a  gun  as  a 
signal  to  their  lagging  companions,  and  in  the  meantime 
resolved  to  watch  the  place  until  they  should  arrive.  When 
the  whole  body  was  assembled  they  instituted  a  diligent  search, 
but,  fortunately  for  him,  without  success.  They  then  held 
Mother  council,  not  many  yards  from  the  place  of  his  con* 


98  RTDMOND   COON?    .  'HAITLON, 

cialment,  when  they  came  to  the  resolution  of  resting  and 
refreshing  themselves  with  the  slight  provisions  which  they  had 
brought  with  them — for  it  was  clear  they  had  not  calculated 
upon  so  long  and  difficult  a  pursuit.  The  Rapparee  overheard 
their  conversation,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  attempt 
escaping  ;  but  from  this  he  was  prevented  by  the  brightness 
of  the  night,  and  the  fact  that  the  soldiers  felt  it  necessary  to 
keep  themselves  warm  by  walking  about  the  very  spot  where 
he  lay.  It  was  in  a  slight  hollow,  or  small  excavation  in  the 
ground,  over  which  the  furze  met,  but  not  apparently  to  such 
a  depth  as  would  afford  cover  or  shelter  to  any  person.  Th« 
men  now  began  to  feel  the  pangs  of  hunger  severely  ;  and  ai 
daybreak  arrived,  observing  a  smoke  at  a  distance,  they  re- 
paired to  it  in  the  hope  of  procuring  refreshment.  Instead  of 
finding  only  one  house,  however,  they  found  a  village,  where 
they  procured  fresh  provisions,  of  which  they  stood  very  much 
in  need.  Having  satisfied  themselves,  they  were  returning  to 
renew  the  chase,  when  they  observed  a  man  at  some  distance, 
running  towards  a  cabin  that  stood  on  the  side  of  the  hill. 
The  Rapparee,  however,  on  looking  behind  him,  and  perceiving 
his  pursuers,  at  once  altered  his  course,  and  the  pursuit  was 
renewed  with  fresh  vigor.  The  chances  now  were  all  to 
nothing  against  him,  the  soldiers  having  recruited  their 
strength  by  the  refreshments  they  had  taken,  whilst  he  nat- 
urally felt  the  twofold  exhaustion  of  fatigue  and  hunger.  Oo 
that  night,  having  still  baffled  and  escaped  them,  he  sheltered 
himself  as  well  as  he  could  on  the  side  of  a  mountain,  where 
he  remained  nearly  famished,  until  daybreak,  when,  weak  and 
jaded,  he  repaired  to  the  house  of  a  friend  in  order  to  get 
something  to  eat.  His  pursuers,  in  the  meantime,  had  only 
lost  sight  of  him,  but  had  no  intention,  by  any  means  to  givt 
him  up.  As  the  Rapparee  approached  the  house,  he  wai 
attacked  by  a  dog,  who  kept  up  a  loud  and  incessant  barking 


THE    IRISH    RArTAMCE.  91 

at  him  before  he  entered  the  dwelling.  His  pursuers,  who, 
although  out  of  sight,  were  vdthin  hearing  of  the  dog,  imrae 
diately  came  up  in  a  body  and  surrounded  the  house  just  ai 
the  object  of  their  pursuit  had  sat  down,  with  a  cake  of  bread, 
•ome  batter,  and  a  jug  of  new  milk  before  him.  It  was  no* 
the  beginning  of  the  third  day  since  he  had  tasted  food,  and 
being  almost  spent  and  broken  down,  he  was  about  to  recruit 
his  strength  with  the  provisions  that  were  before  him,  when 
the  officer  of  the  party  made  his  appearance,  and  with  much 
courtesy,  which  the  Rapparee  returned  with  the  air  of  a  per- 
fect gentleman,  said  : 

"  Sir,  you  will  excuse  me  if  I  say  that  I  cannot  feel  at  ail 
•nrry  for  baring  at  last  overtaken  yon — no  easy  task  I  assure 
you.  A  pursuit  of  more  than  two  days  is  rather  a  trying 
affair  to  all  of  tu  ;  but  it  so  happens  that  we  have  you  after  a 
ong  run  for  it  Of  course,  you  are  aware  that  I  have  the 
king's  warrant  for  your  apprehension,  and  that  you  are  now 
my  prisoner." 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  Rapparee,  "  I  acknowledge  both.  I  am 
certainly  your  prisoner,  and  shall  comply  with  your  orders 
immediately.  Recollect,  however,  that  you  have  been  in  pur- 
suit of  me  these  two  days  past,  with  a  speed  and  vigor  which 
reflect  the  highest  honor  upon  your  spirits  and  physical 
powers,  and  that  daring  all  that  time  I  have  not  tasted  a  single 
morsel  of  food.  I  am,  indeed,  incapable  of  proceeding  just 
now  without  refreshment,  unless  you  should  come  to  the  reso- 
lution of  carrying  me.  I  appeal  then,  sir,  both  to  your 
courtesy  as  a  gtntleman,  and  your  humanity  as  a  man,  to  per* 
mit  me  to  breakfast  before  I  accompany  you.  When  I  shall 
have  finished  you  may  conduct  me  wherever  you  wish  ;  and, 
I  assure  you,  it  is  no  small  honor  to  have  wcared  the  great 
Rapparee  of  the  North." 

"  God  forbid,"  replied  the  Captain,  "  that  I  should  dachargf 


100  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLON, 

my  duty  in  either  an  ungentlemanly  or  inhunan  spirit  Tb4 
request  yon  ask  is  not  only  reasonable  but  necessary,  and  shal' 
be  granted." 

The  officer  withdrew  from  the  room,  but  stationed  himself 
with  eight  men  at  the  door,  whilst  twelve  others  surrounded 
the  house,  rendering  escape  apparently  hopeless.  When  th« 
Rapparee  had  finished  his  meal  he  paused  for  a  brief  space, 
and  at  once  seizing  his  blunderbuss,  he  approached  the  door, 
and  covering  the  officer  with  it,  said  : 

"  Now,  sir,  you  have  taken  me  prisoner,  and  I  admit  it.  1 
demand  house-room  and  car-room,  which,  if  you  refuse  I  shall 
discharge  my  blunderbuss  into  your  body,  and  you  shall  die 
with  me.  I  expect  nothing  but  death,  and  I  shall  not  die  una- 
venged. I  have  but  one  life  to  lose  ;  you  can  take  no  more ; 
but,  perhaps,  I  shall  make  three  or  four  of  you  bear  me  com- 
pany." 

The  audacious  spirit  of  this  language  surprised  the  com* 
mander  of  the  party,  who  felt  himself  so  completely  takfn 
aback  that  he  could  not  for  some  moments  return  an  answer. 
During  this  apparent  hesitation  the  Rapparee  bounded  off,  arid 
M  the  men  felt  also  astounded,  and  stood,  besides,  in  ea<tf» 
others'  way,  so  that  they  could  not  for  a  couple  of  minuteu 
fire  at  him  ;  it  so  happened  that  he  gained  a  space  of  about 
fifty  yards'  distance  from  them  before  he  heard  the  cracking 
of  their  carabines  after  him.  This,  together  with  the  time  lost 
in  reloading  then*  pieces,  gave  him  such  an  advance  in  the  pur- 
suit, invigorated  as  he  feK  himself,  too,  by  a  good  breakfast, 
that  he  shot  far  ahead  of  them,  got  out  of  sight,  and  ulti- 
mately made  a  clear  escape,  to  the  shame  and  mortification  of 
the  crestfallen  but  gentlemanly  officer  and  his  party. 

In  the  meantime,  we  must  return  to  the  pitiable  R  >se  Gal- 
lon, who  is  still  secreted  in  the  place  chosen  for  her  dreary  and 
terrible  captivity.  Lucas's  diabolical  project  of  iturving  hei 


THE  IRISH    lUrFAKTlC  10) 


fato  compliance  was,  from  the  moment  of  bin  last  (and  first) 
visit  to  her,  deliberately  acted  on,  During  the  first  twenty 
four  hoars  the  distraction  and  agony  of  mind  incidental  to  the 
fearful  situation  in  which  she  found  herself  prevented  her  from 
bestowing  scarcely  a  thought  upon  food  or  nourishment.  Her 
reflections  turned  altogether  upon  her  imprisonment,  and  the 
brutal  purpose  for  which  it  had  been  brought  about.  The 
pressure  of  the  anguish  she  experienced  was  sometimes  so  se- 
vere that  she  fell  into  paroxysms  of  distraction  that  made  her 
fear  for  her  senses.  These  again  were  succeeded  by  dull  and 
heavy  periods  of  gloom,  during  which  she  felt  her  mind  stupe- 
fied and  collapsed  to  such  a  degree  that  she  could  scarcely 
think  at  all.  Her  reason  became  chaotic  and  pressed  down 
by  a  lethargic  stupor,  which  alarmed  her  far  more  than  the 
acute  attacks  of  distraction  which  she  suffered.  At  the  close 
of  the  second  day,  however,  she  felt  herself  assailed  by  a  new 
and  formidable  adversary,  to  wit,  want  of  food.  This  attack 
was  keen,  close,  and  personal.  Her  other  sensations  had  to 
do  with  her  mind  and  feelings  ;  but  this  dealt  doubly  with  her 
physical  system  and  its  natural  demands.  Henceforth  com- 
menced a  struggle  between  her  apprehensions  of  insult  and 
ruin,  and  the  cravings  of  her  appetite  for  sustenance,  which 
may  possibly  be  conceived,  but  cannot  be  described  in  language 
The  refinement  of  the  plan  adopted  for  subjugating  her  will 
and  consequently  of  overcoming  her  virtue,  was,  in  its  cruel, 
ur.iiianly,  and  cowardly  spirit,  worthy  of  the  devil  himself 
Uere  the  innocent  girl  was  placed,  with  two  of  the  moat 
terrific  antagonists  to  contend  with  —  a  dread  of  becoming  the 
victim  of  this  ruffian,  and  the  bootless  struggle  against  the 
wasting  pangs  of  famine,  which  were  now  beginning  to  con- 
•urae  her.  When  her  mind  passed  from  the  contemplation  of 
the  one  to  that  of  the  other,  she  felt  the  alternations  of  th« 
prospect  such  as  made  her  wish  a  thousand  times  that  she  wer» 


103  1KDMOND   COUNT  O'klNLOV, 

dead.  On  the  beginning  of  the  third  day  she  felt  such  a  sen 
ution  in  the  region  of  her  stomach,  as  for  a  tine,  at  least, 
banished  all  other  considerations.  The  deadly  spin:  of  fanrin« 
had  got  in  there,  and  its  demands  were  not  only  clamorous  and 
importunate,  but  painful  and  agonizing  to  the  last  degree. 
Perhaps  she  would  not  have  felt  it  thus  keenly,  had  not  her 
imagination  been  so  dreadfully  excited  by  the  apprehension  of 
rain,  which  she  knew  it  was  designed  to  bring  upon  her.  B« 
this  as  it  may,  the  sufferings  which  she  experienced,  as  re- 
sulting from  it,  when  taken  iuto  consideration  with  the  hornbl* 
object  connected  with  its  infliction,  nearly  drove  her  mad. 
Once  every  day  the  hag  of  perdition  came  to  see  her,  with  a 
riew  of  ascertaining  whether  the  murderous  process  was  likely 
to  succeed  ;  but  noor  Rose,  during  the  first  two  days,  treated 
her  like  an  incarnate  demon — as  she  was — produced  her  skean, 
and  commanded  her  out  of  the  room,  assenrating  that  she 
would  prefer  death  a  thousand  times  sooner  than  the  dishonor 
that  was  proposed  to  her.  During  the  wretch's  visit  at  the 
close  of  the  second  day,  she  pointed  to  the  decanter  of  port 
wine  which  she  had  left  behind,  and  assuming  a  look  of  some- 
thing like  compassion,  said : 

"  Poor  girl  1  afther  all,  I  pity  you ;  and  bad  as  you  think 
me,  you  see  I  wouldn't  take  away  that  wine,  for  'fraid  that 
iruth  might  come  upon  you.  At  any  rate,  take  a  glass  of  it 
from  time  to  time,  and  you'll  find  that  it  will  compose  your 
mind,  and  do  you  good." 

Rose  felt  even  that  a  kindness ;  but  up  to  this  period  she 
had  experienced  no  thirst.  The  satanic  suggestion,  however, 
soon  did  its  work.  It  was  hunger  that  had  pressed  upon  her 
heretofore,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  she  would  ever  have 
thought  of  thirst,  were  it  not  for  the  vile  woman's  mention  oi 
it.  Henceforth  the  sense  of  it,  whether  imaginary  or  real, 
WM  associated  with  the  wolfish  pangs  of  famine,  which  deao> 


THE   IRISH    &APPARKK.  103 

kted  her  within.  Poor  girl !  Now  were  those  two  Harpies 
devouring  her,  sometimes  alternately,  according  as  the  raven- 
ous spirit  of  the  one  or  otl  er  predominated,  and  sometimes 
both  together,  wringing  her  failing  heart  with  a  doable  agony 

On  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  day  her  strength  was  nearly 
gone ;  and  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  during  all  that  lime 
she  had  had  no  sleep.  For  the  first  two  days,  apprehension  of 
violence  kept  her  awake ;  but  after  hunger  bad  set  in,  sleep 
was  physically  impossible.  It  is  known  that  those  who  labor 
under  a  long  period  of  famine  never  sleep,  or  if  they  enjoy 
anything  like  a  wakeful  slumber,  the  agony  of  what  they 
Buffer  never  ceases,  but  is  felt  in  all  its  poignancy,  probably 
with  more  acuteness.  Whether  asleep  or  awake,  in  this 
•tate,  she  dreamt  she  was  at  home,  and  eating  voraciously 
at  her  father's  table,  but  could  never  feel  satisfied.  Some- 
times she  thought  she  drank,  too  ;  but  that  her  thirst  was  only 
increased  by  what  she  drank.  These  tantalizing  hallucinations, 
however,  were  as  bad,  if  not  worse,  in  point  of  suffering,  than 
the  awaking  reality.  Her  prayers  to  God  during  this  dread- 
ful and  inhuman  trial,  though  distracted,  were  incessant.  She 
now  began  to  feel  as  if  all  corporal  weight  or  gravity  had  left 
her ;  her  limbs  were  as  light  as  feat  hen,  she  thought,  but  so 
feeble,  that  when  she  sat,  and  wished  to  rise  again,  she  could 
not  do  so  without  several  efforts.  She  pulled  the  skean  out  of 
her  bosom,  and  felt,  to  her  consternation,  that  if  it  were  neces- 
sary for  her  defense,  she  was  unable  to  use  it. 

In  the  meantime,  visions  of  home,  of  her  parents,  of  her  be- 
loved brothers,  and  of  her  lover,  were  perpetually  flitting  before 
her,  and  mingling  themselves  with  the  dreadful  and  manifold 
Bufferings  which  were  distracting  and  pressing  her  down  to 
death.  She  saw  the  skies  red  with  fire,  and  angels  and  de- 
mons approaching  her  from  the  tumultuous  firmament ;  reason, 
tn  fact,  was  tottering  on  its  throne,  and  the  coarse  of  thought 


104  REDMOND   COUNT   0'H.INLOX, 

BO  completely  broken  and  disturbed,  that  she  was  little  short 
of  a  maniac.  There  was  a  looking-glass  in  the  room,  and  she 
staggered  over  to  it,  not  with  any  intention  of  looking  into  it, 
but  a  mere  accident  resulting  from  her  feebleness.  She  caught 
a  glance  of  herself,  however,  and  stood  for  a  moment  to  con- 
template her  own  image.  But,  alas,  what  a  picture  was  then; 
for  her  to  look  upon  !  The  change  which  so  short  a  perio«l 
had  made  in  her  was  awful — frightful.  Her  flesh  was  gone 
almost  to  emaciation  ;  her  eyes,  once  so  brown  and  sparkling 
were  lit  up  by  the  dull,  deadly  glare  of  famine  ;  her  cheek 
bones  stood  out ;  her  nose  seemed  crimpled  and  drawn  in  ; 
and  the  skin  of  her  face  appeared  tightened  and  shining,  as  is 
the  case  with  those  who  are  about  to  pass  out  of  life  after  a 
long  and  wasting  illness.  At  this  moment  the  tortures  of 
hunger  and  thirst  beset  her  with  such  an  unrelenting  fury,  that, 
as  she  knew  she  had  nothing  to  eat,  she  resolved  to  swallow 
a  portion  of  what  was  in  the  decanter.  With  this  purpose 
she  tottered  over  toward  the  chimney-piece  on  which  it  stood, 
and  endeavored  to  take  it  down.  Whether  she  was  unable 
to  do  this,  or  whether  the  Providence  of  God  came  to  her  aid, 
we  shall  not  presume  to  determine,  but  the  fact  is,  that  th« 
decanter  fell  out  of  her  hands,  and  was  smashed  to  pieces  on 
the  iron  fender,  its  contents,  of  course,  being  spilled  about. 
She  would  have  wept  at  this,  but  she  had  no  tears  to  shed  ; 
the  dry  agony  which  shriveled  her  up  had  absorbed  them 
all. 

When  the  decanter  was  broken,  and  its  contents  scattered 
•bout  the  fireplace,  some  strong  and  heavy  smell  proceeded 
from  it,  which  nearly  sickened  her.  Still  the  hunger  and  the 
thirst  were  at  her  vitals,  but  principally  the  former,  a  ud  if  she 
attempted  to  turn  from  the  torture  they  inflicted,  she  was  met 
by  the  under-current  of  terror  which  resulted  from  the  co» 
temptation  of  the  fate  that  was  before  her,  and  the  COD- 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARM.  10ft 

iciuamess  of  her  incapacity  to  defend  Lerself.  She  then 
reached  with  some  difficulty  an  arm-chair,  into  which  she  rather 
fell  than  sat,  and  haying  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  she 
groaned  alond  as  well  as  her  enfeebled  strength  would  allow 
her.  In  a  few  minutes  after  this  the  hag  came  into  the  room, 
and  having  looked  upon  her  with  something  like  alarm,  she  ap- 
proached her,  and  putting  one  of  her  hands  into  the  poor  girl's 
bosom,  drew  out  the  skeau  which  she  had  kept,  and  looked 
npou  as  the  best  means  for  her  protection.  Alas  I  the  faint 
but  earnest  struggle  she  made  was  pitiful,  and  ougtt  to  have 
extorted  compassion  from  a  fiend. 

"  Oh,  don't  take  it  from  me,"  she  whispered,  in  a  low,  trem- 
ulous, but  pleading  voice.  "  As  you  hope  for  mercy  before 
the  throne  of  judgment,  don't — don't  leave  me  altogether  de- 
fenseless 1  Oh,  think  that  I  am  a  woman  asking  mercy  from 
A  woman.  Do  not— oh,  do  not"  And  as  she  spoke  she  strove 
to  retain  the  grasp  of  it  as  well  as  she  could ;  but  her  fingers 
were  too  feeble  to  hold  it,  and  as  for  her  general  strength,  ft 
was  quite  gone.  She  then  entreated  her  for  a  little  food,  in 
inch  tones  of  supplication  as  none  but  some  human  devil,  de- 
foted  body  and  soul  to  the  service  of  Satan — as  she  was — 
could  have  resisted. 

"  Oh  1"  she  exclaimed,  "for  the  love  of  God,  do  not  let  me 
die  of  hunger.  A  little  food — but  a  mouthful  or  two  of  any- 
thing that  will  keep  life  in  me.  Do  you  forget  that  there  is  a 
God  above  you,  who  looks  on  at  your  cruelty,  and  will  punish 
it  ?  Have  you  no  heart,  no  feelings  for  one  of  your  own  kind  f 
You  are  murdering  me ;  but  if  you  wish  to  do  it,  take  thii 
skeun  and  plunge  it  into  my  heart,  and  then  1  will  be  out  of 
pain,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  villainy  :  by  taking  my  life  you 
will  save  me ;  but  if  yon  cannot  be  kind  enough  to  do  so, 
then,  for  the  sake  of  mercy — for  the  sake  of  God — bring  me 
a  little  food,  even  but  a  little,  for  I  am  surely  dying.  I  did 


100  &IDMOND   COUNT    o'fUXLOX. 

not  ask  it  from  you  before,  because  I  had  no  thought  that  1 
was  so  near  death  as  I  find  I  am.'' 

The  old  woman  immediately  secured  the  dagger,  but  said 
not  a  word  ;  indeed,  she  had  not  spoken  at  all  since  she  cam* 
into  the  room,  but  took  her  departure,  locking  the  door,  as 
usual,  after  her.  When  she  was  gone  the  poor  girl  pressed 
her  temples  with  her  hands  ;  but  after  a  little  time  a  peculiar 
change  came  over  her.  She  wrung  her  hands,  and  burst  into 
a  fit  of  laughter.  She  felt  herself  without  hope — beyond  thw 
she  could  neither  think  nor  reason  now — and  in  a  few  minutes 
her  prison-room  rang  with  the  maniac  laughter  of  her  despair. 

In  this  state  we  shall  leave  her,  until  we  look  after  some 
others  of  our  dramatis  personas. 

When  the  old  woman  left  her,  the  wretch  hobbled  with 
more  than  usual  haste  to  Lucas's  room,  whom  she  found  wri- 
ting a  letter. 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  she,  "  Here  is  her  dagger,  at  any  rate  j 
but  then  I  am  afeared M 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of  now,  Pugshy  ?"  * 

"  Troth,  sir,  I'm  afraid  she's  dyin',  and  that  we've  carried 
the  thing  too  far.  The  decanter,  too,  is  broken,  and  the  wine 
spilt,  so  that  that  chance  is  lost." 

Just  at  this  moment  an  orderly  soldier  came  in,  and  handed 
the  worthy  Cornet  a  letter,  on  the  back  of  which  was  written 
the  words,  "  Haste  and  attention  !"  He  immediately  opened 
it,  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  MY  DEAR  LUCAS  :  Do  you  wish  to  have  your  name  made 
famous  for  ever,  and  to  become  a  Colonel  in  twelve  months ; 
aye,  and  to  secure  five  hundred  pounds  besides  ?  If  so,  get 
a  dozen  men,  and  proceed  without  a  moment's  delay  to  the 
f  our-Mile  House,  where  the  great  Rapparee  is  lying  wounded, 
•  A  vulgar  and  derisive  name  for  Peggy. 


THf    IRISH    RAPPARK».  101 

After  baring  escaped  from  and  played  the  devil  with  Captaii 
Nisbet,  who,  by  the  way,  is  going  to  be  cashiered  for  letting 
him  slip  through  his  fingers.  Lose  not  a  moment,  you  profli- 
gate I  If  you  happen  to  be  in  pursuit  of  a  pretty  girl,  give 
it  up  for  the  present,  at  least  until  to-morrow,  and  do  what  the 
Irish  government,  with  all  the  military  force  in  the  kingdom, 
could  not  do — that  is,  to  secure  the  person  of  this  modern 
Proteus.  I  will  call  at  your  rooms  in  the  course  of  the  day  ; 
so  leave  your  keys  with  the  old  woman,  for  I  shall  exercise  a 
sharp  appetite,  and  allay  a  violent  thirst  upon  whatever  I  can 
find  in  your  larder.  You  are  now  on  the  way  to  fame  and 
promotion,  if  you  act  with  spirit ;  and  I  shall  soon  be  on  my 
way  to  the  barracks,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  seeing  you  fetch 
this  devil  of  a  man  home  with  you  as  a  prize  that  will  make 
your  fortune.  That  my  moustache  and  whiskers  may  flourish, 
but  I  ajn  delighted  at  the  chance  thus  offered  to  you.  Seize 
upon  it,  my  boy,  and  you  are  a  made  man. 

"  Ever  thine,  GEORGE  GRAVES, 

"The  Jolly  Major." 

Lucas's  eye  sparkled  with  delight  upon  perusing  this  agree- 
able document.  Here  was  an  opportunity  of  distinguishing 
himself,  equal  to,  if  not  greater  than  that  of  taking  a  for- 
tress. 

"  By  H ,"  said  he,  "  the  Jolly  Major  is  right— I  am  a 

made  man  sure  enough,  if  I  can  secure  this  fellow,  who  is  the 
terror  of  the  country,  and  there  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost ; 
now  that  he  is  wounded,  he  will  be  able  to  make  no  defense, 
and  I  shall  hare  him.  Pugshy,  it  is  very  fortunate  that 
I  got  home  in  time.  That  journey  to  Dublin  was  a  bad  busi- 
ness. You  know  that  I  went  to  attend  my  uncle's  funeral, 
with  a  hope  that  I  might  come  in  for  a  good  property,  and 
What  do  jou  think,  but  the  old  scoundrel  had  not  left  me  evec 


108  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HAXLOlf, 

a  shilling  to  bu/  a  rope,  and  be  d— — d  to  him.  Here  have  I 
lost  four  days  by  it,  and  it  is  even  very  fortunate  that  I  hap 
pened  to  arrive  in  tune  to-day  to  receive  this  letter." 

"  Is  it  possible  he  left  you  nothing,  sir  ?" 

"  Not  a  penny  !  he  said  in  his  will  that  he  heard  a  bad  ac- 
count of  me,  and  so  he  has  left  all  he  was  worth  to  my  bn> 
ther.  However,  it's  one  comfort  that  I  don't  stand  in  need  of 
it.  I  am  wealthy  enough,  as  it  is.  Pugshy,"  he  added,  "  how 
is  that  girl  getting  on  ?" 

"  Troth,  sir,"  she  replied,  "  I'm  afeared  I  carried  the  matter 
too  far  :  she's  hi  a  bad  way." 

"  What  I  I  hope  you  have  not  starved  her  to  death,  ha>« 
you." 

."  No,  sir ;  but  hi  troth  she's  pretty  near  it ;  she  must  get 
•ome  nourishment." 

.  ."  Go  then,  and  get  her  some  food  ;  not  much,  observe ; 
Keep  her  pretty  easy  till  my  return  ;  I -am  called  out  on  im- 
mediate duty,  but  I  shall  not  be  many  hours  away.  In  the 
meantime,  I  will  secure  this  skean  and  bring  it  with  me. 
Who  knows  but  it  may  be  serviceable  if  we  come  to  short 
grips.  Major'  Graves  is  to  call  here  in  the  course  of  the  day, 
?o  I  will  leave  you  my  keys,  for  you  know  the  thirsty  old  fel- 
low will  not  sit  dry-lipped  in  my  absence." 

"  Throth,  I  know  that,  sir,"  replied  the  wretch,  "  but 
then,  sure,  it  isn't  for  nothing  that  he's  called  the  Jolly  Ma- 
jor. As  for  the  girl,  she  must  get  something  to  eat,  or  she 
can't  live.  I  did  not  think  myself  she  was  so  far  gone  until 
to-day." 

"Well,  then,  give  her  food — just  what  will  keep  a  little 
strength  in  her.  Curse  you,  do  you  think  I  wanted  to  starve 
her  outright  ?  I  intended  to  see  her  to-day  ;  but  now  I  havn't 
time  for  that — in  fact,  I  intended  to  have  seen  her  the  moment 
this  dagger  was  secured,  only  just  now  I  have  other  work  b» 


THE    IR'sn    RAPPARKE.  109 

fore  me — work  that  you  shall  soon  hear  of,  PugsLy  ;  aye,  and 
the  world,  too." 

He  immediately  put  on  his  uniform,  ordered  out  twelve  men, 
and  in  a  very  brief  space  of  time  they  were  on  :heii  way  to 
the  Four-Mile-House — which  was  a  kind  of  carman's  inn — 
between  Dundalk  and  Newry. 

After  he  had  gone,  the  old  woman,  now  alarmed  at  the  con 
dition  in  which  she  had  left  their  intended  victim,  returned  to 
her  room  with  a  small  portion  of  boiled  chicken  and  some 
nread  ;  she  also  brought  a  little  weak  wine  and  water,  which 
she  knew  would  be  useful  in  restoring  her  strength  and  spirits. 
On  entering  the  apartment  she  was  astonished  at  the  wild  and 
frantic  look  of  her  eyes — yet  the  very  wildness  was  woful  and 
gloomy,  and  the  frantic  expression  was  that  of  a  person  in 
whom  the  powers  of  life  were  fast  ebbing.  Every  now  and 
then  she  put  her  hand  to  her  bosom,  and  seemed  to  search  for 
her  skean  ;  and  not  finding  it,  she  uttered  a  feeble  scream, 
which  in  a  moment  was  followed  by  the  miserable  laughter  we 
have  described.  That  she  might  have  borne  her  death  from 
mere  starvation  with  calmness  and  resignation,  there  is  little 
doubt ;  but  this  resignation  was  impossible  when  we  reflect 
upon  the  outrage  which  she  dreaded,  and  which  mingled  ita 
horrors  with  her  physical  sufferings. 

"Here,  dear,"  said  the  woman,  assuming  a  kind  tone,  "you 
have  been  made  to  suffer  too  much  ;  here  is  a  little  food  for 
you  ;  but  I  can't  give  you  much  at  a  time,  bekase  they  say  it 
might  kill  you.  Here,  take  a  little  bread  and  chicken,  and  some 
weak  wine  and  water,  and  it  will  refresh  and  strengthen  you." 

She  looked  into  the  woman's  face,  but  did  not  seem  to  un- 
derstand her.  'The  moment,  however,  her  eyes  rested  upon 
the  food,  the  instincts  of  nature  came  to  her  relief,  and  acted 
M  a  substitute  for  reason.  She  looked  imploringly  at  the 
woman,  and,  stretching  out  her  feeble  arms,  exclaimed : 


110  REDMOND   COUNT 

"  Ob,  give  me — give  me,  save  me,  save  me." 

The  other  then  assisted  her  to  partake  of  the  food,  but  ii 
great  moderation,  after  which  she  gave  her  a  little  of  the  wine 
and  water.  When  she  had  partaken  of  these  refreshments, 
she  looked  np  into  the  old  woman's  face,  and  putting  forth  her 
hand,  she  took  that  of  the  other  in  herfy  pressed  it,  and  be- 
fore she  let  it  go  the  obdurate  old  crone  felt  a  few  warm  tears 
fall  upon  it.  She  started  as  if  touched  by,  as  it  were,  the 
shadow  of  some  human  emotion ;  for,  with  a  hideous  grimace, 
she  said : 

"  Well,  I  wasn't  always  so  hard-hearted,  and  all  that  I  did 
suffer  long — long  ago,  and  all  that  drew  me  to  wickedness, 
was  the  false  tongues  of  my  own  kind,  the  foul  tongues — the 
black  tongues  of  women.  They  first  took  away  my  good 
name,  and  then  I  had  nothing  to  guard,  and  nothing  to  do. 
but  to  be  revenged  on  them  whenever  I  could,  for  the  rest  of 
my  life  I  will  now  leave  you,  and  when  I  think  you  can  take 
it  wid  safety,  I  will  bring  you  more  food  It  wouldn't  do  to 
overreach  the  mark  either,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone — which  the 
Other  could  not  hear  ;  after  which  she  left  her  to  herself. 

Early  that  morning  the  family  of  the  M'Mahons  were  seated 
at  a  melancholy  breakfast,  for  we  need  scarcely  say,  that 
neither  tide  nor  tidings  of  the  fair  Rose  of  Lisbuy  could  be 
heard  by  any  of  those  who  felt  an  interest  in  her  recovery. 
At  that  moment  her  friends  were  hopeless,  and  knew  not  on 
what  hand  to  turn  in  order  to  continue  the  search  for  her. 
Whilst  in  this  mood,  a  person  having  the  appearance  of  a  well- 
dressed  country  gentleman  rode  np  to  the  door,  alighted  from 
his  horse,  and  entered  the  house.  As  the  usual  mark  of  re- 
spect in  such  cases,  the  whole  family  stood  np  from  their  meal, 
but  the  gentleman  at  once  insisted  that  they  should  resume 
their  seats  and  finish  their  breakfast. 

"  I  am  come,"  said  he,  "  in  consequence  of  a  rumor  which  I 


THI    IRISH    RAPPAKEt.  Ill 

heard  concerning  the  abduction  of  a  respectable  fexiala 
in  this  neighborhood — a  daughter  of  a  man  named  Brian  Cal 
Ian,  I  think." 

"  It's  too  true,  sir,"  replied  old  M'Mahon,  "  unfortunately, 
too  true.  We  have  searched  everywhere — so  has  her  poor 
heart-broken  father's  family — but  can't  find  a  mark  or  token 
of  her  any  more  than  if  the  ground  had  swallowed  her.  God 
help  us  1  this  unfortunate  day,  sir.  My  son,  who  was  on  the 
point  of  being  married  to  her,  is  breaking  his  heart  about  her ; 
but  what's  to  be  done  undher  God,  we  don't  know." 

"  I  thought  at  first,"  said  the  son,  "  that  it  was  that  no* 
torious  profligate,  Cornet  Lucas,  who  was  at  the  bottom  of  it, 
because  he  had  designs  on  the  girl  before  ;  but  then,  we  went 
to  the  barracks,  and  the  Colonel  satisfied  us  that  there  was  no 
party  of  men  out  on  the  night  she  was  taken ;  ay,  and  it's 
clear  enough,  too,  that  the  Cornet  himself  was  at  home  on  the 
game  night,  for  he  proved  it  by  witnesses  ;  and  yet,  somehow, 
I  am  not  satisfied, — I  know  the  villain  he  is." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  gentleman,  "  I  have  only  to  ask  if  yon 
can  bring  a  horse  and  pillion  to  the  head  inn  of  Armagh.  Can 
you  do  this  ?" 

"Why,  certainly,"  replied  old  M'Mahon,  "  I  will  go  myselt 
We  have  as  good  a  pillion  as  there  is  in  the  parish,  and  three 
stout  active  horses,  if  one  won't  do." 

"  No,"  replied  the  stranger,  "  your  son  himself  must  go,  and 
let  him  wait  in  Keenan's  inn  until  he  receives  orders  how  to 
act ;  and  when  he  receives  them  let  him  act  upon  them  quickly. 
I  am  myself  engaged  in  this  matter  for  the  government  of  the 
country,  who,  although  you  are  not  aware  of  it,  have  taken 
the  business  up.  It  is  supposed  that  she  is  with  the  greaf 
Rappaiee,  and  I  am  upon  his  trail." 

"  I  don't  think,  sir,"  replied  the  son,  "  that  the  Rapparee  ha* 
Anything  to  do  with  it — and  I'd  swear  be  has  not.  He  never 


Ill  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HAMLON, 

yet,  they  say,  committed  an  outrage  upon  any  woman,  bnt 
always  made  it  a  point  to  protect  them.  Even  if  he  did  take 
her  though,  it  surely  is  not  to  the  town  of  Armagh  he  would 
fetch  her." 

"  Who  said  she  was  in  the  town  of  Armagh?"  asked  the 
gentleman  :  "  I'm  sure  I  did  not.  1  only  desired  you  to  get 
ready  a  horse  and  pillion,  and  to  repair  to  Keenan's  inn,  and 
wait  for  further  orders.  If  you  have  such  confidence  in  the 
Rapparee,  why  don't  you  apply  to  him  to  restore  her  ?" 

"  If  he  knew  the  circumstances,"  replied  young  M'Mahon, 
"  I  am  sure  he  would  if  he  could." 

"  Ay,  if  he  could"  returned  the  gentleman — " you  did  well 
to  make  that  condition ;  but  I  believe  he  has  enough  to  do  to 
take  care  of  himself.  At  all  events,  if  you  choose  to  be 
guided  by  my  advice,  do  so  ;  if  not,  follow  your  own  course." 

"  I  will  certainly  take  your  advice,"  replied  the  young  man, 
"and  will  be  in  Keenan's  inn  very  soon.  I  don't  intend  to  let 
Ifrass  grow  under  us,  at  any  rate." 

The  gentleman  then  bade  them  good  morning,  and  young 
M'Mahon  having  saddled  a  stout  horse,  and  placed  a  pilliou 
behind  him,  was  almost  immediately  on  his  way  to  Armagh. 

"  Arrah,  Pether,"  said  Mrs.  M'Mahon  to  her  husband,  as 
he  feat  in  a  thinking  mood,  smoking  his  after-breakfast  pipe 
"  who  on  earth  do  you  think  that  strange  gentleman  can  be  ?' 

"  [  have  been  thinking  of  that,  Mary,"  replied  her  husband, 
"bnt  I  can  make  nothing  of  it." 

*'  Arrah,  would  it  be  him.n 

"  Him !  the  Lord  help  you,  woman  !  didn't  I  see  him  two 
or  three  times  when  I  was  payin'  my  tribute  to  him.  Oh,  no, 
Mary  ;  whoever  it  may  be,  it's  not  him.  You  know  it  was 
only  the  day  before  yestherday  that  they  say  he  was  hunted 
for  his  life  by  Captain  Nisbet  and  the  sogers.  Poor  fellow 
he  has  other  things  to  think  of  than  Rose  Callan." 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREE. 


lit 


"  I  declare  there's  something  in  it,  then,  or  why  would  h« 
desire  Con  to  bring  a  pillion  behind  him  ?" 

"  God  knows  1"  said  her  husband  ;  "  fro  n  what  Con  tould 
us  the  other  night  about  the  robbers  he  met,  I  wouldn't  be 
surprised  if  he  was  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"But  Con  says  it  wasn't  him  he  met." 

"  Neither  it  was,  bekase  Con  knows  him  betther  than  I  dc. 
Vou  know  that  it  is  Con  who  generally  pays  him  his  tribute. 
God  knows,  as  I  said,  who  it  can  be.  We  must  only  hope 
for  the  best.  Con  won't  be  long,  at  any  rate,  till  he's  ii 
Armagh." 


EROMOND   COUNT 


CHAPTER    VII. 

!>•  the  meantime,  Armagh,  in  the  course  of  a  few  bonri, 
was  the  theatre  of  a  very  different  scene.  Lucas  had  been 
about  an  hour  or  so  gone.  His  man-servant  and  the  old  wo- 
map  were  enjoying  themselves  over  a  pot  of  strong  beer,  BOW, 
as  the  proverb  has  it,  "  that  the  house  was  their  own,"  and 
everything  was  very  quiet  in  the  barracks. 

"  Pugshy,"  said  the  man,  "  how  is  the  Cornet's  affair  getting 
on  ?  Will  the  garrison  surrender,  eh  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Pugshy,  "  till  she's  made  to  surrendher — as 
made  she  will  be." 

"Well  now,  Pugshy,  listen  to  me!  Here's  your  l»-.alth, 
you  blasted  Witch  of  Endor  1  I  never  was  a  saint  any  more 
than  yourself;  but  curse  me  if,  in  my.  worst  days,  I  e7fr  was 
such  a  sinner.  Now,  listen  1  If  you  had  one  drop  of  honest 
woman's  blood  in  your  parchment  old  veins,  you  wouldn't  treat 
that  poor  girl  as  you  have  done  ;  you  wouldn't  lend  yoursel/ 
to  such  damned  and  cowardly  villainy,  you  infernal  ouid  hag.* 

"  And  listen  you  1"  she  replied,  her  withered  features  be- 
coming frightful  from  some  venomous  poison  which  wemed  to 
stir  itself  into  hideous  life  within  her, — "  listen  you  !"  It  wai 
the  family  of  that  girl  that  ruined  me  and  mine.  IL  the  wars 
of  Cromel  they  fought  against  the  Parliament ;  aud  bekase 
we — that  is,  my  family — were  Presbyterians,  and  assisted 
Cromel  at  the  siege  of  Droghedy,  where  some  o'  tlem,  they 
said,  wor  murdhered  by  us,  they  took  revenge  upon  us  afther- 
wards,  and  burned  us  out  o'  house  and  home.  I'm  now  payin' 
them  back  in  their  own  coin,  or  worse  coin.  She  doesn't  know 
that,  nor  would  I  tell  her  anything  about  it,  only  I  put  the 
thing  upon  a  different  footing,  although  I  wasn't  far  from  the 


THE    IRISH    RAFFAREE.  115 

truth  crcn  in  that.  I  had  very  little  mercy  from  my  own  kind, 
bat  was  hunted  down,  and  by  no  one  so  much  as  the  grand- 
mother of  this  very  girl." 

"  Yes,  but  this  poor  girl  is  innocent." 

"  I  know  that ;  bnt  then  hasn't  she  their  blood  in  her 
veins?* 

This  wretch  was  certainly  a  strong  evidence  of  the  conse- 
quences of  civil  strife  ;  and  we  are  sorry  to  say  that,  even  up 
u>  the  present  period,  the  feelings  engendered  by  it  are  still 
the  scource  of  discord  and  political  animosity  between  parties. 
We  know  that  among  hundreds  of  thousands,  from  whom  the 
very  memory  of  the  facts  and  outrages  has  been  blotted  out 
by  time,  the  dark  but  bitter  principle  resulting  from  them  still 
remains  as  a  curse  to  the  country. 

At  this  stage  of  their  dialogue  a  knock,  having  something, 
as  it  were,  jolly  and  authoritative  in  it,  came  to  the  door  of 
the  room  in  which  they  sat ;  for,  be  it  known  to  the  reader 
that,  as  the  drink  was  at  their  master's  expense,  they  had 
deemed  it  an  act  of  ordinary  prudence  to  bolt  the  door.  In  •> 
moment  everything  was  put  aside,  both  the  drink  and  glasses, 
and  Tom  very  demurely  opened  the  door,  when  who  should 
enter  but  the  jolly  Major  Graves.  Tom  had  never  seen  him 
before  ;  but  the  moment  he  appeared,  Pugshy  recognized  him 
at  once. 

"  Oh,  Tom,"  said  she,  "  bring  back  the  things,  it's  only 
Major  Graves ;  and,  Major  dear,  how  is  every  tether  length 
of  yon  ;  and  throth  I'm  right  glad  to  see  you,  for  it's  always 
holiday  time  when  you  come.  Tom,  get  out  the  things  again  ; 
there's  no  heedin'  nor  need  of  heed  in'  before  the  Major." 

"  You're  welcome,  sir,"  said  Tom,  with  something  of  de> 
tection  in  his  grin,  notwithstanding.  "  I've  often  heard  my 
master  talk  of  you.  Pugshy  and  I,  sir,  were  takin'  a  glass 
of  beer,  and  talkiu'  over  things  as  they  go." 


jit'*  REDMOND  COUNT  I 

"Well,"  replied  the  Major,  "  what's  your  name ;  Oh,  Tom  I 
Well,  Tom,  my  good  fellow,  let  me  be  no  hindrance  to  either 
your  enjoyment  or  chat ;  which  of  you  has  the  keys  ?  because 
whilst  you  are  at  your  beer,  I  must  have  a  bof,tle  of  claret, 
and  no  man  knows  better  where  to  find  it  than  myself.  Oh, 
thank  you,  Tom ;  what  a  devil  of  a  lot  of  keys  you  have  I 
But  no,  I'm  somewhat  jaded ;  get  the  claret  yourself.  Pugshy, 
go  and  find  me  something  to  eat." 

At  this  moment  a  gigantic  countryman  put  his  huge  face 
into  the  room,  and  said  : 

"  May  I  come  in  wid  de  rent,  sir  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  get  out,  you  swab,  and  shut  the  door.  Ill  ro» 
ceive  your  rent  by-and-bye,  but  not  till  I've  got  something  to 
eat  and  drink  first.  Stand  outside  there ;  I'll  call  you  in 
when  I  want  you.  It's  a  giant  tenant  of  mine,  who  came 
into  town  to  pay  me  rent,  and  I  may  as  well  receive  it,  and 
vrite  bim  a  receipt  here  ?" 

"  To  be  sure,  Major — to  be  sure  ;  but,  holy  man,  Major 
slfci*lin',  if  the  beard  on  your  upper  lip  and  your  whiskers. 
>ren't  a  world's  wondher  for  beauty !" 

"  Oh,  Pngshy,  my  good  old  lady,  I  wouldn't  part  witfi 
those  whiskers  this  moment  for  the  king's  commission.  So  this 
is  the  claret  P 

"  It  is,  sir ;  and  I  suppose  you  know  the  value  of  it." 

M I  ought,  Tom,  because  it  was  I  who  got  it  for  him.  What's 
this,  Pngshy?  Cold  fowl — the  very  thing  I'm  fondest  of; 
»nd  ham,  too.  Tom,  cut  me  a  slice  or  two  of  thai  ham. 
Fhank  you !  I  like  attention  and  respect,  and  always  reward 
it.  There  is  half-a-crown  for  you,  and  another  for  you,  Png- 
ghy ;  and  now  I'll  have  my  luncheon  in  comfort.  Pugshy,  I 
met  your  master  a  little  out  of  town ;  he  told  me  he  was  going 
to  secure  this  terrible  Rapparee,  that  won't  allow  honest  peo- 
ple to  sleep  qnieMy  in  their  beds — the  robbing  rascal.  He  had 


THI    IRISH    IUPPAREB.  117 

a  party  of  twelve  raeu  with  him,  aud  there  is  DO  ck  ubt  at  all 
but  he  will  come  home  a  made  man.  Here's  that  he  may 
succeed  as  /  wish  1" 

"  Troth,  sir,"  said  Pugshy,  "  it's  very  well  he  was  back  from 
Dublin  in  time.  He  went  up  four  days  ago  to  his  uncle's 
funeral,  hopin'  to  come  in  for  a  haul." 

"Well,  but  did  he?" 

"  No,  sir ;  devil  a  farden  he  left  him — not,  as  he  says  him- 
self, even  a  shillin'  to  buy  a  rope  to  hang  himself  wid." 

"  Upon  my  soul,  then,  that  was  a  pity,  Pugshy,"  replied  thi 
Major,  dryly.  "  Is  he  long  home  ?" 

"  He  wasn't  half  an  hour  in  the  house,  sir.  He  had  only 
time  to  write  a  letter,  when  the  news  about  the  Rappare* 
reached  him." 

He  then  took  three  or  four  glasses  of  claret,  and  helped 
himself  to  the  ham  and  chicken  ;  after  which  he  leaned  back 
in  the  chair  and  said,  with  a  comic  and  significant  glance  at 
the  old  woman : 

"Now,  Pugshy,  for  the  secret  and  the  girl.  I  must  see 
her." 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't  do  that,  Major,"  she  replied.  "  I  promised 
solemnly  to  let  nobody  see  her ;  for  he  tould  me  if  I  did  he 
would  take  my  life." 

"  I  know  he  did,  for  he  told  me  so ;  but  he  desired  you, 
through  me,  to  allow  me  to  pee  her,  and  to  reason  with  her  ; 
and  it  will  gc  hard  if  I  don't  drive  all  this  nonsense  out  of  her 
bead" 

"  I  couldn't  do  it,  sir ;  I  must  be  faithful  to  my  duty.  You 
know  the  Cornet's  rich,  and  will  reward  me  well  for  following 
his  ordhers.  No,  sir  ;  barrin'  he  gave  yor  a  token,  I  couldn't 
think  of  it" 

"  That's  precisely  what  he  said.  Unless  I  give  you  a  token, 
Major,  that  faithful  old  creature  will  neve:  let  you  lay  an  ey« 


118  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HAN'LOX, 

on  her.  The  token,  then,"  said  he,  "is  tha.  she  is  in  the  ninth 
room  from  the  corner  of  the  range.  So  now  ure  jou  satfo 
Bed?" 

Pugshy  paused  for  a  minnte,  and  then,  reckoning  the  rooms 
in  her  own  mind,  upon  her  fingers,  exclaimed  : 

"  Well,  it's  true  enough,  sir ;  nobody  but  himself  or  me 
could  tell  you  that.  It  will  be  useless,  at  all  events,  for  you 
to  speak  to  her.  Sue  would  'a  stabbed  the  masther  with 
»  skean  she  had  if  he  had  come  near  her;  but  I  took  it 
from  her  to-day,  because  she  was  so  weak  that  she  couldn't 
prevent  me.  The  masther  brought  it  with  him  when  he  went 
out.  He  desired  me,  when  he  was  goin'  to  Dublin,  to  starve 
ber  into  compliance  :  and,  indeed,  I  was  near  carryin'  the  joke 
too  far.  You'll  find  her  in  a  poor  state,  sir." 

"  The  joke,  Pugshy, — ah,  the  joke  ;  but,  indeed,  it  would 
have  been  a  very  good  joke  if  it  had  succeeded  ;  but  perhaps 
it  has  succeeded — eh,  Pugshy  ?" 

"  Not  yet,  sir,  at  any  rate ;  but  it's  hard  to  tell  what  might — 
hem  1  only  the  masther  was  called  away  to-day  so  suddenly ." 

"  Well,  get  your  key,  Pugshy,  and  let  us  see  her.  Reason 
and  common  sense  may  do  a  great  deal,  you  know.  Come, 
Tom,  you  may  accompany  us  till  we  have  a  glance  at  thifc 
famous  beauty." 

On  leaving  the  room  they  found  the  colossal  countryman 
•till  waiting  outside. 

"  Goliah,  my  man,"  said  the  Major,  "  I  will  take  your  rent, 
and  give  you  a  receipt  in  a  few  minutes.  I  am  going  down 
to  room  number  nine  here— a  lucky  number  they  say — and 
will  be  back  presently." 

Goliah  grinned  significantly,  and  they  proceeded  together  to 
visit  this  unfortunate  trirl. 

Before  they  enter,  however,  we  must  attempt  to  afford  tha 
reader  some  intimation  of  what  her  Bufferings  had  been  previooi 


THE    IRISH    lUrrAKK.  HI 


to  their  appearance  iu  her  room.  It  is  very  well  known  by 
those  who  have  been  reduc-d  to  the  very  last  gasp  by  a  long 
gtarration  that  toward  the  close  of  it  all  bodily  pain  ceases. 
thus  very  much  resembling  mortification  when  it  sets  in  in  a 
vital  part.  There  is  nothing  then  experienced  but  a  general 
collapse  and  a  gradual  decay  of  all  strength  and  feeling,  which 
passes  slowly,  and  without  pain,  into  the  unconscious  torpor  of 
death.  When  a  little  relief,  however,  in  the  shape  of  food  is 
administered  —  if  this  be  not  frequently,  but  hi  small  quantities, 
repeated  from  tune  to  time,  —  the  powers  of  the  system, 
awakened,  by  the  nutrition  already  received,  into  new  life,  as 
it  were,  become  sharpened  into  a  state  of  the  most  exquisite 
torture,  by  an  incessant  demand  for  food.  This  is  the  worst 
and  most  terrible  state  and  stage  of  starvation  ;  and  in  this 
state  did  the  Major  and  his  two  companions  find  the  object  of 
his  search. 

As  they  entered,  and  indeed  before,  they  heard  her  melan- 
choly cry  for  food  ;  and  the  moment  she  saw  them  the  same 
ay  was  repeated. 

"  Oh,  food  1"  she  exclaimed  ;  "  food  —  food,  for  the  sake  of 
God  !  and,  as  you  expect  happiness,  bring  me  food  ;  for  I 
cannot  bear  what  I  suffer.  All  I  did  suffer  is  nothing  to  this  !" 

"  Will  you  be  obedient  then  ?"  said  the  crone.  "  If  you 
do,  you  will  get  food." 

"  If  I  do,"  said  she,  clasping  her  hands,  and  looking  toward 
heaven,  "  may  the  Almighty  strike  my  name  out  of  the  list  of 
mercy  !  Oh,  great  God  !  vouchsafe  to  grant  me  strength,  for 
I  have  no  friend  1" 

The  Major  reasoned  with  her,  using  the  same  logic  as  the 
old  woman,  but  still  received  the  same  reply  ;  and  still  shf 
called  for  food. 

"Tom,"  said  the  Major,  "go  instantly  and  fetch  her  food, 
and  a  little  wine  and  water." 


ISO  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HAMLOK, 

"  I'm  danged,"  said  Tom  "  if  I  had  known  this,  I'd  ban 
put  an  end  to  it,  let  the  consequences  be  what  they  might 
Have  patience,  poor  girl ;  I  will  bring  you  food." 

While  he  was  absent  the  worthy  Major  walked  to  and  fro 
the  room,  giving  such  glances  at  the  old  woman  as  we  need 
not  describe.  When  he  returned  the  Major  himself  helped 
her  moderately,  and  also  gave  her  a  portion  of  the  claret  di- 
luted with  water,  after  which  the  insatiable  cravings  seemed 
to  be  appeased,  and  she  felt  more  at  ease.  The  Major  then 
stepped  to  the  door,  and  beckoned  to  the  man  he  called 
Goliah  to  come  down.  "  Goliah,"  said  he,  as  he  came  in,  "we 
want  a  cast  of  your  office  here."  And  as  he  spoke  he  locked 
the  door  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket.  "  Tie  and  gag  the 
man-servant  immediately.  Don't  be  alarmed,  Tom,"  he  add- 
e-i ;  "  beyond  this  you  shall  experience  neither  hurt  nor  harm 
at  our  hands.  Submit  quietly,  and  it  will  be  the  better  for 
you  ;  but  if  you  make  a  noise  that  giant  will  strangle  the 
breath  out  of  your  body.  Neither  do  you  be  alarmed,  Miss 
Callan  ;  we  are  your  friends,  and  have  come  to  release  you 
from  this  cruel  captivity,  to  which  the  dastardly  villain  Lucas 
brought  you  by  an  outrage  for  which  he  will  pay  dearly  bt- 
fore  he  sleeps." 

"  I  will  not  resist,  sir,"  said  Tom,  "  because  I  cannot  blame 
you  for  what  you  do." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  tightly  tied  neck  and  heels,  and 
gagged  in  such  a  manner  that  he  could  not  utter  a  syllable  if 
his  salvation  depended  on  it ;  and  by  the  time  this  was  accom- 
plished the  infamous  old  crone  found  herself  in  the  same  state, 
the  worthy  Major,  with  his  own  hands,  having  afforded  her 
that  consolation. 

"  Now,"  said  he  to  Rose,  "  remain  as  you  are  for  a  little, 
And  we  shall  return  for  you.  Go  down  to  Keenan's,  John,* 
•aid  he,  addressing  the  giant,  "  and  bring  up  the  horse  and 


THE    IRISH    KAITAREK.  121 

pillion  ;  and  if  any  one  should  question  yon,  say  fhey  belong  to 
Major  Graves.  Be  quick." 

John  disappeared  ;  and  the  Major,  taking  up  :he  banch  of 
keys  which  the  servant  had  left  upon  the  table,  tried  such  jf 
them  as  he  imagined  might  fit  into  the  excrutoi're  in  which 
Lucas  kept  his  money.  None  of  them  fitted  in,  however; 
npon  which  he  drew  a  skeleton,  or  false  key,  out  of  his  pocket, 
and  deliberately  opening  the  desk,  took  therefrom  the  sura  of 
three  hundred  pounds,  principally  in  gold.  Having  secured 
this,  he  locked  it  up  again,  and  left  it  to  all  appearance  pre- 
cisely as  he  had  found  it.  In  a  few  minutes  the  man  he  called 
John  arrived  at  the  door  with  the  horse  and  pillion,  and  the 
Major  returning  to  Rose,  said  : 

"  Now,  my  poor  girl,  you  come  with  me  I  I  am  setting  you 
at  liberty — releasing  you  from  the  power  of  one  of  the  most 
infamous  scoundrels  that  ever  disgraced  humanity  as  a  man,  01 
his  Majesty's  commission  as  a  soldier." 

41  But  who  are  you  ?"  she  asked.  "  You  are  a  stranger  It 
me,  and  I  am  afraid  of  you.  Indeed,  I  am  afraid  of  every  onf 
— God  help  me.  I  hope  you  are  no  friend  of  this  villain. 

He  stooped,  and  whispered  a  word  into  her  ear,  upon  which 
her  eyes  literally  danced  with  delight. 

"  Praise  be  to  the  Lord  of  Heaven  1"  she  exclaimed,  clasp. 
Ing  her  hands,  and  looking  upward.  "  Oh,  take  me  away,  for 
I  know  that,  as  a  woman,  I  can  trust  in  you.1' 

He  immediately  wrapped  her  cloak  about  her,  put  on  her 
bonnet  with  his  owu  hands,  and  taking  her  up  in  his  arms,  as 
one  would  a  child,  he  brought  her  outside  the  door,  which  he 
locked,  and  having  afterward  thrown  the  key  under  the  grate 
of  the  Cornet's  room,  bearing  her  still  in  his  arms,  descended 
the  stairs,  and  mounting  the  horse,  she  found  herself  on  the 
pillion  behind  him,  having  been  placed  there  by  his  gigantic 
attendant 


BJCDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLOJI, 

-  Now,  John,"  said  he,  addressing  him,  "  yon  go  quietly  on^ 
and  join  our  friends  at  the  appointed  place.  As  for  the  com- 
pletion of  this  exploit,  the  greatest  difficulty,  perhaps  danger, 
is,  yet  before  me  ;  but  I  think  I  have  provided  for  it." 

The  gigaBtic_eountryman  then  walked  out  of  the  barracks  ; 
and  the  Major  was  about  to  follow  him,  when,  naving-  arrived 
at  the  gate,  he  was  challenged  by  the  sentinel,  who  put  the 
muzzle  of  his  gun  against  the  horse,  and  desired  his  rider  to 
stop. 

"  You  cannot  go  out,  Major,  unless  by  yourself ;  and,  at  all 
events,  not  with  that  girl.  The  orders  of  my  commanding 
officer  are  against  it." 

"  Who  is  he  ?" 

"  It  was  Cornet  Lucas,  sir,  who  set  the  guard,  after  his  re- 
turn from  Dublin." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  replied  the  Major.  "  I  met  him  on  his 
way  out  with  his  party  to  take  the  Rapparee  ;  but  I  tell  you, 
sentinel,  that  this  business  " — and  he  nodded  over  his  shoulder 
at  Rose—"  is  likely  to  get  him  into  a  scrape.  The  Colonel 
has  been  put  on  the  scent  of  it,  and  there's  likely  to  be  an  in- 
vestigation, which  is  likely  again  to  end  in  a  court-martial. 
Do  you  understand  that  ?  As  for  me,  I  saw  the  Cornet  to- 
day, and  I'm  trying  to  get  him  out  of  it ;  and  for  that  reason 
he  has  allowed  me  to  take  my  own  way  in  it.  Do  you  under- 
stand that  again  ?" 

"  I  understand  nothing,  sir,  but  my  orders.  If  I  committed 
a  breach  of  duty  for  any  one,  Major  Graves,  I  would  for 
you  ;  because  it's  not  the  first  time  you  have  enabled  me  to 
drink  your  honor's  health." 

"  No,  nor  it  won't  be  the  last,"  replied  the  Major.  "  Yoc 
know  the  Cornet's  handwriting,  don't  you  ?" 

"  I  do,  sir,  as  well  as  my  own." 

"  Now,  sentinel,  I  only  trie-!  you,  and  I  honor  you  for  tht 


THE    IRISH    BAPPAJtU.  liB 

ttrict  discharge  of  your  duty.  Your  conduct  is  highly  credits 
We.  I'm  an  old  soldier  myself,  and  upon  my  honor,  had  yoc 
permitted  me  to  bring  this  girl  out  without  your  master's  writ- 
ten warrant  to  that  effect,  I  would  have  reported  yon  to  him. 
There's  the  warrant.  Read  it." 
The  sentinel  accordingly  read  as  follows  : 

"  To  the  Sentinel  on  guard  at  the  barrack-gait  of  Armagh : 

11  Permit  my  friend,  Major  Graves,  who  is  in  my  confidence, 
and  by  whose  advice  I  wish  to  act — in  a  certain  matter — to 
leave  the  barracks  in  company  with  any  female  he  wishes  to 
bring  with  him,  without  let  or  hindrance,  or  question  asked. 

"  WILLIAM  LCCAS, 
*'  Cornet  in  His  Majesty's,"  etc.,  etc, 

"Do  you  understand  anything  now?"  asked  the  Major, 
laughing. 

"  Oh  1"  replied  the  sentinel,  "  that  alters  the  matter  ;  pass 
on,  Major.  And  I  say,  your  honor,  I  was  at  the  business  that 
night,  and  I  thought  it  a  piece  of  stark  madness  to  bring  her 
here." 

"  Mark  me,  sentinel,"  replied  the  Major ;  "  you  say  you 
were  at  the  business.  Now,  sooner  than  acknowledge  that  fact 
again,  go  and  cut  the  tongue  out  of  your  own  head,  and  give 
all  the  fellows  that  were  there  the  same  caution.  There  will 
be  the  devil  to  pay  and  to  flog  about  it.  There's  half-a-crown 
to  drink  my  health." 

"Thank  your  honor.     Pass  on,  Major." 

The  Major  rode  quietly  to  Keenan's  inn,  and  as  be  went 
along  he  addressed  his  companion  as  follows  : — 

"  Now,  my  dear  girl,  in  order  that  you  might  place  confi- 
dence in  me,  and  feel  that  I  was  your  protector,  and  no  friend 
or  confederate  of  that  scoundrel  Lucas,  I  had  no  scruple  ii 


184  REDMOND   COUNT   O'HANLON, 

communicating  my  name  to  you :  but  on  this  subject  I  have  t 
request  to  ask.  Will  yon  grant  it  ?" 

"If  I  can  do  it  with  honesty  and  propnety,  sir,  I  will  in- 
deed— indeed  I  will." 

"  With  honesty,"  replied  the  Major,  smiling  ;  ''  with  hon- 
esty— ahem  !  Well,  be  that  as  it  may,  I  know  you  at  least 
are  honest.  My  request,  then,  is  this — that  you  will  not 
breathe  the  name  of  the  man  who  saved  you  from  that  villain, 
and  rescued  you  from  his  clutches,  to  any  living  individual 
until  you  receive  permission  from  myself.  Call  me  Major 
Graves.  To  no  human  being  will  you  mention  it." 

"  Ah,  sir,"  she  replied  with  emotion,  "  it  would  be  bad,  in- 
deed, and  ungrateful  on  my  part  if  I  didn't  do  that  much  for 
the  brave  man  that  has  saved  me  from  destruction  and  shame, 
and  my  family,  ay,  and  others  too,  from  broken  hearts.  Sir, 
I  take  God  to  witness,  I  will  never  breathe  your  name  as  the 
man  that  delivered  me  from  worse  ^than  death,  until  I  have 
your  own  consent  for  it. 

" That  will  do,  my  dear  girl,"  said  he,  "I  am  perfectly  sat- 
isfied." 

Ou  reaching  the  inn  he  alit,  and  was  met  by  young  COP 
M'Mahon,  who  felt  amazed  at  seeing  a  man  in  a  military  un- 
dress instead  of  the  gentleman  whom  he  expected. 

I  suppose,"  said  the  Major,  "  you  are  the  young  man  who 
was  about  to  be  married  to  this  girl.  A  gentleman — a  gov 
ernment  commissioner,  or  something  of  that  sort,  who  was  at 
your  father's  house  to-day,  got  me  to  come  and  release  the  girl, 
which  I  have  done.  She  is  ill,  but  bring  her  in  and  let  her 
have  some  moderate  and  nutritious  food  ;  but  mark  me— no* 
much,  unless  you  intend  to  injure  her.  It  is  creditable  in  the 
government  to  have  interfered  in  this  matter,  but  it  is  not 
creditable  to  the  British  army  to  maintain  a  state  of  disciplim 
in  which  such  outrages  can.  occur  without  discovery.  In  n»| 


THE  IRISH    RAPPAREK.  125 

corps,  nothing  so  shameful  and  atrocious  as  this  tould  happen. 
Taite  her,  now  ;  she  is  as  pure  and  virtuous  as  when  you  last 
saw  her.  Farewell  both  ;  God  bless  you,  and  may  you  be  aa 
happy  as  I  wish  you  1" 

His  own  horse  was  then  brought  out,  and  having  mounted 
him,  he  rode  at  a  smart  trot  out  of  the  town  by  the  Newry 
road. 

As  to  the  jolly  Major's  further  movements,  the  reader  need 
make  no  further  inquiry  about  them.  He  often  moved  in  an 
eccentric  orbit,  and,  like  Sir  Boyle  Roche's  bird,  seemed  to  be 
in  two  places  at  the  same  time.  The  scene  now  changes  to 
the  Four-Mile-House,  already  alluded  to,  where  three  or  four 
stalwart-looking  men,  who  appeared  to  belong  to  one  company, 
sat  with  liquor  before  them,  along  with  some  other  chance  cus- 
tomers, to  whom  the  men  we  mention  seem  to  be  strangers. 
They  looked  rather  grave  and  demure,  but  if  closely  examined, 
a  keen  spectator  would  have  said  that  there  was  a  daring,  if 
not  a  reckless  and  desperate  expression  in  the  eye  and  coun- 
tenance of  each. 

"  Is  it  true,"  asked  one  of  the  chance  customers,  "  that  th« 
great  Tory  is  dead  at  last  ?" 

"  So  report  goes,"  replied  another  ;  "they  say  Captain  Nis- 
bet  wounded  him,  and  that  although  he  escaped  from  them  at 
the  time,  he's  dyin'  for  all  that." 

"  Who  do  you  mane  by  the  great  Tory  ?"  asked  one  of  the 
other  men  ;  "do  you  mane  the  Rapparee  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,  who  else — poor  fellow  1" 

"  Faith  and  the  country  will  be  well  rid  of  him,"  he  replied  ; 
"  he  has  kept  it  in  sich  a  state  of  terror  and  alarm  for  as  good 
as  five  or  six  and  twenty  years,  that  an  honest  man,  especially 
if  he  nau  money,  couldn't  sleep  safely  in  his  bed  for  him.  Ai 
for  myself  I'm  raa;n  glad  to  hear  that  there's  an  end  to  him 
and  his  robbeiies  Where  was  there  a  gentleman's  house,  or 


REDMOND  COUNT 

a  nobleman's  castle  that  hasn't  beer  garrisoned  as  if  it  was  in 
a  state  of  siege,  in  conseqnence  ol  him  and  his  gang — the 
thieves." 

"  It's  very  well,  my  good  friend,"  replied  the  other,  "  that 
neither  he  nor  any  of  his  men  hears  you  spakhf  the  same 
words.  He  wasn't  so  bad  as  you  say." 

"  What  I  say  is  truth,"  returned  the  other,  "  and  where's 

the  man  can  deny  it  ?     Is  there  a  man  in  the  two  provinces  of 

Tlsther  and  Leinsther  worth  fifty  pounds  in  the  world,  that's 

ot  forced  to  keep  arms  in  his  house,  and  to  fortify  it  every 

way  he  can  before  he  goes  to  bed  ?    And  don't  the  gentry  of 

the  counthry  sleep  with  a  pile  of  blunderbushes  and  other  arms 

on  a  table  beside  their  beds,  and  a  candle  burnin'  on  it  all 

night?" 

"  Well,  I  believe  it  'ud  be  useless  to  deny  that  same,  sure 
enough,"  said  the  man,  "  but  every  one  knows  that  he  was  kind 
and  generous  to  the  poor.  Faith,  neighbor,  say  what  yon  will, 
I'm  very  sorry  for  him,  and  my  own  opinion  is,  that  he'll  be  a 
gTeat  loss  to  the  country." 

"  I  hope  you're  none  of  his  men,"  said  the  other  sharply, 
and  with  something  like  suspicion. 

"  No,"  replied  his  eulogist,  "  and  maybe  he  has  betther  men 
than  me,  and  maybe,  too,  he'd  be  a  different  man  to-day  from 
what  he  is  or  was,  only  for  the  cursed  laws  of  the  country." 

"  Ay,"  said  another  of  the  strangers,  named  Shane,  it  wouh1 
leem,  for  so  his  companions  called  him,  "  Ay,  indeed,  devil  re 
shave  de  one  o'  dem  tieves  but  as  soon  as  dey  take  to  de  high 
way,  but  laves  it  aul  on  de  poor  harmless  laws — de  craturet 
Ho — ho,  dat's  a  fine  excuse  for  a  robber.  It'  very  like  de  stoi-j 
dat  I  heard  of  de  wolf  and  de  lamb,  poor  ting.  Dey  breaks 
de  laws  first,  and  den  dey  quarrels  wid  'em." 

"  Well  done,  Shane,  let  him  answer  that  if  he  can,"  said  or« 
of  his  companions. 


THE    IRISH    RAPFAREK  111 

"Well,  but  wasn't  he  first  outlawed,"  replied  the  other 
'  and  couldn't  appear  at  large  in  the  country  ?" 

"  Outlawed  1"  said  Shane,  "  faix  den  it  was  full  time  for  him 
lo  be  outlawed,  for  he  let  daylight  through  one  o'  de  kiug^ 
fellow-shubjex.  However,  God  be  good  to  his  sowl  if  he's  dead, 
and  to  his  body  if  he's  livin',  and  I  say  this  bekase  I'm  a 
Chrysteen  man,  and  wishes  well  to  my  inemies." 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation  the  landlord  came  in — a 
red-headed  Milesian,  with  a  face  freckled  almost  into  scales,  a 
pair  of  deep-set,  cunning  eyes,  and  a  saddle  nose,  under  which 
opened  a  cavernous  mouth,  that  displayed  an  enormous  chev- 
*ux  defrise  of  strong,  ill-sorted  tusks,  yellow  as  saffron. 

"  Neighbors,  there's  something  stirrin'  abroad  in  the  coun- 
try ;  here  is  an  officer  with  a  party  of  sogers,  ancf  I  think  I 
know  who  they're  lookin'  for ;  but  thanks  be  to  goodness,  he's 
oot  here.  The  d — d  villian,  I  wouldn't  for  his  weight  in  goold 
that  he  was  found  hi  my  house." 

"  What  villain  do  you  mane  ?"  asked  the  apologist  of  the 
Rapparee. 

"  Why,  the  Tory  that  was  shot  by  Captain  Nisbet's  sogers, 
the  Great  Robber  of  the  North." 

"  Well,  I  think  he's  not  likely  to  trouble  yon,"  said  the 
other;  "  isn't  the  man  dead  or  dyin',  they  say  ?" 

"  And  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  replied  the  landlord,  "  only  I 
hope  he  won't  die  here.  As  to  that  if,  he  was  dead  this  min- 
ute, I'd  take  my  oath  his  very  ghost  would  rob  on  the  high- 
ways." 

"  In  that  case,"  replied  his  friend,  "  it  would  be  bad  policy 
to  take  his  life  ;  he  might  do  more  harm  dead  than  livin'." 

"At  any  rate,"  said  the  landlord,  "  there's  a  report  abroad 
for  the  last  couple  of  days  that  he  wishes  to  die  in  this  house, 
that  is,  if  he's  not  dead  already.  It  was  here  in  a  quarrel  ha 
once  killed  a  man,  and  they  Bay  he  thinks  that.  a*  a  pnniah 


128  REDMOND   COUNT    O'HANLOW, 

ment  and  penance  on  himself,  he  ought  to  die  nowhere  etae 
I'll  take  very  good  care  he  won't  die  here  though, — I  might 
desart  the  house  if  he  did  ;  for  divil  resave  the  man,  woman,  or 
child  'ud  come  near  it  afther  nightfall,  the  place  is  so  lonely." 

They  had  scarcely  concluded  when  Lucas  and  his  men  en- 
tered the  house,  and  the  former  immediately  demanded  to  see 
the  landlord.  This  worthy  man  at  once  presented  himself,  and 
asked  what  refreshment  his  honor  and  his  party  required. 

"  First  put  those  men  out,"  said  Lucas,  "  and  after  that  I 
have  something  to  say  to  you." 

"  My  dear  friends,  will  you  plase  to  go  out  for  a  while,"  said 
the  landlord  ;  "  his  honor  has  something  to  say  to  me." 

"  But  we're  travelers,  landlord,"  said  one  of  the  knot  we 
have  alluded  to,  "  and  as  we're  tired  and  intend  to  sleep  here 
all  night,  it's  hardly  fair  to  disturb  us/'' 

"  I  am  on  the  king's  business,  my  friends,"  said  Lucas,  "  and 
if  you  don't  disappear  in  an  instant,  -you  shall  feel  something  to 
your  disadvantage.  Get  out,  you  scoundrels,  at  once  1" 

"  Oh  !  on  de  king's  business,  God  bless  him,"  said  Shane : 
"  bedad  we'll  do  any  ting  for  de  king,  or  to  help  de  sogers,  ai 
dey  wanted  us.  Come  boys,  we  must  obey  de  offisher  and  \u» 
sobers." 

"  It's  well  you  did,"  said  Lucas,  "  otherwise — begone,  I  say. 
Now,  landlord,"  he  proceeded,  after  they  had  disappeared, 
"  where  is  this  man  ?" 

"  What  man,  your  honor  ?" 

"  Why,  the  Rapparee,  that's  lying  wounded  in  this  house." 

"  Sir,  I  thank  goodness  there's  no  such  man  here  ;  or  rather, 
I'm  devilish  sorry  that  there  is  not." 

"  You  are  lying,  sir,"  replied  Lucas ;  "  I  see  the  lie  in  that 
damnable  grin  of  yours,  and  I  give  you  my  honor  that  if  we  find 
him  here,  you  shall  accompany  him  to  Armagh  jail.  As  hit 
barborer,  you  are  as  liable  to  be  hanged  as  he  is." 


THE    IRISH    RAFPAAUL  121 

"  I  know  that,  sir,"  replied  the  landlord ;  "  but  come,  let  yoa 
and  your  men  follow  me,  and  if  be  is  here  yoa  mast  find  him." 

The  whole  house  was  searched — the  out-hooses  were  search 
ed,  every  nook  and  corner  was  searched — the  chimneys  were 
Jearched — every  press,  chest,  and  every  bed  in  the  house  war 
searched,  but  without  success.  There  was  no  Rapparee  nor 
Tory  within  the  premises,  and  Lucas's  indignation  at  the  dis- 
appointment was  at  the  red  heat  after  their  return  to  the 
tap-room. 

"  I  see  you're  disappointed,  sir,"  said  the  landlord,  in  a  con 
Sciential  voice  ;  "  but  I  have  something  to  say  to  yon,  only  I 
don't  know  whether  to  say  it  before  the  men  or  not." 

"  Come  into  another  room,"  said  Lucas  ;  and  they  accord, 
ingly  did  so.  "  Now,"  he  continued,  "  what  is  it  you  have  to 
gay?" 

"  Did  yon  get  information  he  was  here,  sir  ?" 

"  Why  do  yon  ask  that  question  ?" 

"  Bekase,  if  you  did,  the  information  wasn't  far  wrong.  He 
teas  to  be  here,  and  he  tx  to  be  here— and  if  I'm  not  mistaken, 
hell  be  here  this  evenin'." 

41  How  is  that  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  his  friends  have  given  it,  that  he's  either  dead  or 
dyin,'  in  ordher  to  prevent  any  search  for  him  ;  but  I  believe 
the  truth  is,  he's  only  slightly  wounded  ;  for  how  could  he  es- 
cape from  Captain  Nisbet's  soldiers  if  they  had  wounded  him 
severely  ?" 

"  That's  very  true,"  said  Lucas ;  "  but  then,  why  should  h«> 
wish  to  come  here  ?'' 

"  Ah,  sir,  you  d  m't  know  the  cut  ning  of  that  man.  He 
think's  he'll  be  safer  in  a  house  like  this,  bekase  it's  the  last 
place  that  anybody  would  think  of  searchin'  for  him,  and  that 
he  can  stay  here  till  he  recovers.  I'm  glad  you  came,  air 
You've  saved  me  trouble  ;  for,  I  tell  you,  that  if  he  had  come 

0 


180  REDMOND   COUNT  o'HANLOV, 

here,  I'd  have  had  the  knowledge  of  it  in  Armagh  barracks 
as  fast  as  man  and  horse  conld  carry  it." 

"  In  the  present  case,  what  would  you  have  me  do,  then  1* 
asked  Lucas.  "  Do  you  think  he  will  be  here  in  the  course 
of  the  day  1" 

"  Why,  as  to  that,  you  know,  sir,  that  as  I'm  in  none  of 
his  saicrets,  it's  impossible  for  me  to  say  ;  but  I  think,  from 
what  I  hear  of  his  cunning,  that  it's  very  likely — and  for  that 
raison,  I'd  recommend  you  and  your  party  just  to  stop  where 
you  are  until  evening." 

"  Yes ;  but  don't  you  think  it  improbable  that  he  would 
expose  himself,  by  coming  here  in  daylight  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  it's  just  bekase  no  one  'nd  suspect  him  of  such 
a  thing,  that  he'll  come  in  daylight ;  but  you  know  very  well 
he'll  come  disguised,  if  he  does  come.  Your  plan  then  is,  at 
all  events,  to  wait  until  eveniu',  so  as  that  you  may  have  the 
ohances,  if  they're  in  your  favor."  * 

"  Well,  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  this  affair,  I  >xv 
•ieve,  landlord,  yon  are  right — and  in  that  case,  you  had  better 
prepare  something  in  the  shape  of  dinner  for  us.  We  caa'4 
eit  here  all  day  with  empty  stomachs." 

"  Oh,  then,  I'm  afraid,  sir,  I  have  nothing  daicent  enough 
for  yez — nothing  fit  to  offer  yez." 

"  Why,"  asked  the  other,  "  what  have  you  got  ?" 

"  Why,  then,  divil  a  thing,  sir,  barrin'  ham  and  fowl." 

"And  what  better  conld  you  give  us?"  said  the  other. 
"  Let  it  be  ready  in  due  time.  I  only  hope  the  rascal  Rap- 
^aree  will  come,  and  that  we  shan't  have  our  journey  for 
aothing." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  landlord  "  I  hope  there's  no  fear  o'thot. 
God  knows,  it  'ud  be  a  pity  that  you  should  go  home  as  you 
came.  Would  you  accept  of  a  glass  of  wine,  sir,  as  a  treat 
*rom  me,  wid  great  submission  for  tak:n'  such  a  liberty  f 


THE    IRISH    RAPPAREB.  131 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Lucas,  somewhat  superciliously,  "I  shall 
not ;  but  fetch  me  a  bct'le,  and  let  the  men  have  something 
to  drink — not  much  though,  for  they  must  keep  strictly  sober 
It's  but  fair  we  should  do  something  for  the  house,  at  all 
*  vents.  Bring  the  wine  to  another  apartment ;  my  presence 
might  only  interrupt  business  in  your  tap-room." 

All  this  was  immediately  complied  with.  Dinner  in  due 
time  made  its  appearance,  Lucas  dining  in  the  apartment 
where  he  had  been  sitting,  and  the  soldiers  in  the  tap-room. 
A  considerable  portion  of  the  day  had  now  passed,  and  evening 
was  drawing  on.  The  soldiers,  in  the  meantime,  had  been 
plied  with  more  liquor  than  had  been  contemplated  by  thoir 
commanding  officer.  The  knot  of  strange  travelers,  whom  we 
have  mentioned,  entered  into  conversation  with  them,  and  as 
A  mark  of  then*  respect  for  the  "  brave  sogers,"  treated  them 
very  liberally,  so  that  when  the  landlord  presented  hia  bill, 
and  received  payment  from  Lucas,  the  item  for  liquor  did  not 
go  beyond  what  he  had  ordered  them,  whilst  in  the  meantime 
o«t  of  them  were  tipsy. 


188  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HAXLOV, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

LUCAS  was  now  about  to  give  up  all  expectation  of  the  Rap 
paree,  and  had  thoughts  of  turning  out  for  barracks,  when  the 
landlord  approached  him,  in  a  state  of  great  but  joyful  agi- 
tation, saying : 

"  Well,  sir,  if  ever  a  gentleman  was  born  to  luck,  and  fame, 
and  fortune,  you  are.  By  the  sky  above  us,  he's  coming.  I 
saw,  this  minute,  four  men  carryin'  a  sick  person  down  the 
road  toward  the  house.  Keep  quiet,  sir,  and  don't  let  your 
men  stir  till  they  come — then  pounce  upon  them." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  four  men  bore  an  old  de- 
crepid  female  into  the  tap-room,  and  stretched  her  upon  a 
couple  of  chairs.  She  was  evidently  dying,  and  called  aloud 
for  a  clergyman.  Lucas,  big  with  •  expectation,  approached 
her,  but  a  single  glance  was  sufficient  to  convince  him.  In- 
stead of  the  far-famed  Rapparee  whom  he  had  expected,  ther« 
was  nobody  ill  but  some  wretched  old  crone,  who  was  appar- 
ently in  the  last  agonies.  In  order  to  assure  himself,  however, 
against  imposition,  he  examined  her  withered  arms  and  hands, 
inspected  her  worn  and  wrinkled  features,  and  her  thin,  shriv- 
eled neck ;  after  which  he  returned  to  finish  his  bottle,  morti- 
fied and  disappointed  to  the  last  degree.  "  Some  infernal  an- 
tiquated hell-cat,"  said  he,  "  the  very  picture  of  old  Pugshy 
Wallace." 

The  unfortunate  wretch,  hi  the  meantime,  was  calling,  in 
tones  so  wild  and  full  of  despair,  for  the  assistance  of  a  Prot 
estant  clergyman,  that  she  became  the  subject  of  general  com- 
passion, especially  as  there  was  not  a  minister  of  that  per 
suasion  within  two  or  three  miles  of  the  house.  No  person, 
however,  should,  under  the  most  desponding  circumstances  ever 


THE    IRISH    RAPPARER.  133 

abandon  nope.  Whilst  the  poor  woman  was  feebly  shrieking 
for  the  consolations  of  religion,  a  venerable-looking  gentleman, 
far  advanced  in  years,  was  observed  riding  past  the  house,  bnt 
without  any  apparent  intention  of  stopping  ;  and  that  he  was 
of  the  Protestant  church,  toe,  was  sufficiently  evinced  from 
his  shovel  hat,  and  his  very  canonical  costume.  This  fact 
was  mentioned  to  the  landlord,  who  at  once  ran  out  and 
acquainted  him  with  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  dying 
woman. 

"I  trust,  your  reverence,  it  was  heaven  sent  you  on  the 
way,"  said  he ;  "  and  at  the  very  nick  of  time,  too — for  I  see 
you  are  a  Protestant  clergyman,  and  it  is  such  she  is  crying  for." 

The  clergyman  had  pulled  up  the  noble  horse  on  which  he 
rode,  and  exclaimed : 

"  I  trust  it  was,  my  friend  :  but  I  am  feeble,  very  feeble, 
and  you  must  assist  me  to  alight.  I  am  indeed  glad  of  this — 
poor  creature,  bring  me  to  her ;  but  stay,  I  must  lean  upon 
yon,  for,  as  I  said,  I  am  indeed  very  feeble,  my  friend,  and  feel 
thai  this  poor  woman's  case  will  soon  be  my  own.'' 

In  this  manner  they  entered  the  tap-room  where  she  lay ; 
and  the  parson,  having  contemplated  her  for  a  few  moments, 
raia.x  bis  eyes  with  a  strong  devotional  feeling,  and,  turning 
rouna,  *Jd  : 

"  My  friends,  will  you  be  good  enough  to  withdraw  for  a 
brief  space— it  will  not  be  long  ;  for  the  parting  spirit  is  just 
hovering  upon  her  lips ;  retire  with  quietness — no  noise ;  soldiers, 
lever  mind  the  arms — the  noise  of  removing  them  will  distract 
and  disturb  her  at  this  solemn  moment,  when  all  should  be 
peace.  There  now — thanks ;  your  arms  will  be  safe  ;  just  stand 
outside,  and  shut  the  door.  Landlord,  do  you  stay  I  Have 
you  any  cold  water  in  the  room,  that  I  may  wet  her  lips  f 

"  Yes,  please  your  reverence/'  replied  that  person  ;  "  here'i 
a  jug  full  of  H." 


184  REDMOND   COUXT  o'SANLOX, 

"  Set  it  over  here  then,  and  close  the  door." 

The  landlord  complied  with  both  his  wishes,  after  which  hit 
voice  could  be  heard  outside,  admonishing  and  consoling  the 
dying  sinner  to  whom  he  had  been  so  providentially  conducted. 
At  length  the  ceremony  was  concluded  ;  and  the  company,  on 
re-entering  the  room,  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  that  the  mind 
of  the  departing  woman  was  composed.  She  expressed  her- 
self quite  happy,  and  very  grateful  for  the  spiritual  aid  she  had 
received. 

11  Landlord/'  said  the  benevolent  old  gentleman,  "  it  would 
be  kind  in  you  to  remove  this  poor  old  creature  to  a  bed. 
There  is  something  profane  in  seeing  a  Christian  spirit  pass  to 
its  last  account  in  such  a  place  as  this.  Remove  her  to  a  bed 
then  ;  and  accept  of  this  to  requite  you  ;"  and  as  he  spoke  h« 
placed  a  sum  of  money  in  his  hands.  "  You  have  there,''  h« 
added,  "  what  will  enable  you  to  provide  her  the  necessary 
comforts  which  she  may  require,  for  the  short  time  she  lasts, 
and  for  her  decent  interment  afterward.  She  tells  me  sh« 
was  taken  suddenly  ill  on  the  public  road,  not  far  from  th« 
house.  In  this  case,  it  is  not  improbable  that  she  may  still  re> 
cjver  F  so,  landlord,  let  her  have  the  trifle  which  I  placed 
in  your  hands.  Pray,  where  are  those  soldiers  from  ?" 

"  From  Armagh,  your  reverence,"  replied  the  landlord. 

•'Are  they  accompanied  by  an  officer  in  command  ol 
them?" 

"  They  are,  your  reverence." 

"  I  am  very  feeble  ;  would  you  present  my  compliments,  and 
any  I  am  too  weak  to  wait  upon  mm,  and  that  I  shall  take  it 
as  a  favor  if  he  will  come  to  me  here.  Say  I  am  the  Rev. 
Doctor  Wilson,  of  Killeeny,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  him." 

This  was  done  ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  tae  sick  woman  wai 
immediately  removed  to  another  room,  and  placed  in  a  comfort 
able  bed. 


THE    IRISH   RAPPAUU  18* 

"  Sir,"  said  the  clergyman,  addressing  Lucas  when  he  enter* 
ed  the  room,  "  I  understand  yon  are  the  officer  in  command  of 
this  party." 

"  I  am,  sir,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"  Pray,  is  your  rovie  for  Armagh  ?  because  if  it  be,  I  should 
feel  glad  of  your  escort  so  far." 

"  It  is,  sir,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  and  we  shall  feel  very  hap- 
py to  afford  yon  our  protection." 

"  Many  thanks,  sir  ;  I  shall  gladly  avail  myself  of  it  Do 
yon  soon  travel  1" 

"  I  think  we  shall  go  immediately ,"  replied  Lucas.  "  We 
have  been  waiting  here  upon  a  matter  of  importance  for  many 
hours,  and  I  am  beginning  to  fear  that  a  worthy  friend  of  mine 
has  suffered  himself  to  be  humbugged,  and  made  a  regular 
cat's-paw  of,  and  myself  to  boot.  Sergeant  Wallace,  turn  out 
the  men  ;  and,  landlord,  my  horse  I" 

In  a  few  minutes  he  and  his  twelve  dragoons  were  mounted  ; 
but  the  feeble  old  man  was  somewhat  more  tardy ;  he  leant 
upon  the  landlord  to  his  horse,  and  was  not  able  to  mount  him 
wilLout  his  assistance.  We  may  observe  that  the  strange  trav- 
elers who  left  the  room  with  the  soldiers  whilst  the  clergyman 
was  engaged  with  the  dying  woman,  did  not  again  return  with 
them,  nor  were  they  seen  afterward  about  the  place.  They 
bad  disappeared. 

The  night  was  now  clear ;  and  the  moon,  then  in  her  second 
quarter,  was  only  occasionally  visible.  Still  it  might  be  called 
•  bright  night,  as  the  clouds  that  from  time  to  time  obscured 
her,  were  fleecy  and  transparent.  The  party  nad  now  ridden 
some  miles,  and  reached  a  lonely  part  of  the  road,  which  waa 
hemmed  in  on  each  side  by  several  ranges  of  trees.  On  arriv- 
ing here,  a  band  of  men  came  out,  right  and  left,  upon  them ; 
but  not  until  they  had  sufficient  time  to  have  recourse  to  their 
fire-arms ;  and  it  would  seem  that  this  delay  of  the  attackinf 


134  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HAXLOJT, 

party  was  deliberate  and  voluntary,  the!"  object  being  to  di» 
hearten  the  soldiers  by  allowing  them  to  feel  that  their  armi 
were  useless.  The  landlord,  in  fact,  had,  while  the  clergyman 
was  engaged  with  the  woman,  taken  the  powder  out  of  the  pans 
Df  their  guns,  and  poured  water  into  the  touch-holes,  after 
which  he  replaced  the  powder  in  the  pans,  lest  upon  examina- 
tion it  might  be  missed,  and  the  trick  discovered.  The  soldiers 
leveled  their  carbines  at  them,  and  fired — but  without  effect ; 
nothing  resulted  but  so  many  flashes  in  th&pan. 

"  O  mother  of  Moses,  we  are  betrayed  I"  said  Lucas.  "  Oof 
arms  have  been  tampered  with,  and  are  useless." 

"  Yes,  Lucas,"  replied  the  decrepid  clergyman,  seizing  him 
by  the  collar,  with  a  grip  like  that  of  Hercules,  "  you  are  be- 
trayed, and  shall  now  suffer  for  your  inhuman  and  cowardly 
conduct  to  the  inoffensive  and  virtuous  daughter  of  Brian  Cal- 
"an."  He  held  a  pistol  in  one  hand,  as  he  spoke. 

"  Seize  and  disarm  every  man  of  them  I"  he  shouted,  "  I 
shall  take  care  of  their  commander.  Lucas  I"  he  said,  address- 
ing that  gentleman  ;  "  if  you  move  a  single  muscle  in  the  act  of 
resistance,  I  shall  shoot  you  dead ;  otherwise  your  life  will  be 
spared." 

The  struggle  betwen  the  Rapparees  and  the  military  was 
but  short ;  and  we  need  not  feel  surprised  at  this,  because  there 
were  upward  of  two  to  one  against  the  latter,  most  of  whom, 
moreover,  were  intoxicated,  and  almost  incapable  of  resistance ; 
independently  of  this,  the  Rapparees  were  by  far  the  mor« 
powerful  and  desperate  men. 

"  Strip  them,"  said  their  leader — '  every  man  of  them :  thei 
tie  their  wrists  tight  behind  them.  Take  off  coat,  waistcoat 
and  shirt;  and  when  that  is  done,  tend  Goliah  here.  Now, 
Lucas,"  he  added,  "  if  you  possessed  the  spirit  of  a  gentleman, 
or  the  courage  of  a  soldier,  I  would  myself  cross  swords  with 
jroo,  and  give  you  a  chance.  But,  hi  either  sense,  you  have  no 


THI    UU8H    RAPPAREE.  131 

claim  of  the  kind  upon  a  brave  or  generous  num.  None  but  ab 
inhuman  scoundrel,  and  a  coward  at  heart,  wo-. Id  treat  aui 
female  as  Miss  Callan  has  been  treated  by  you." 

"I  was  from  home,"  replied  Lucas,  "and  ant  not  responsi 
ble  for  it  It  was  contrary  to  my  wishes." 

"  Was  it  contrary  to  your  wishes,  sir,  that  she  was  dragge>  I 
way  in  the  clouds  of  night  from  the  protection  of  her  father  a 
roof,  with  so  abominable  and  brutal  a  purpose.  Now,  sir,  I 
tell  you  that  I — even  I — the  Rapparee  and  outlaw,  will  hat  e 
you  disgraced  as  a  soldier,  and  cashiered  as  a  coward  and  a 
scoundrel  from  the  British  army.  The  officers  of  the  Britbh 
army,  sir,  are — with  some  exceptions,  like  you  and  others — 
brave  men,  and  gentlemen,  and  yon  may  take  my  word  for  it, 
they  will  neither  abet  nor  countenance  you  as  the  perpetrator 
of  such  an  inhuman  and  revolting  outrage  as  this.'1 

In  a  few  minutes  the  military  was  stripped  naked  from  the 
middle  up,  each  man  with  his  wrists  tied  so  tightly  behind  him 
that  he  could  render,  neither  to  himself  or  others,  the  least 
assistance.  During  the  performance  of  this  feat,  the  Rapparee 
held  Lucas  hard  and  fast,  and  when  it  was  completed,  h« 
said : 

"  Send  Goliah  here." 

This  was  the  name  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  man  known 
as  "  strong  John  M'Pherson,"  in  consequence  of  his  tremend- 
ous physical  powers. 

"  Now,  Goliah,"  said  he,  "  take  this  scoundrel  and  strip  him 
precisely  as  the  others,  by  far  his  betters,  are  stripped.  If  he 
attempts  to  injure  you,  I  will  shoot  him  dead  ;  and  when  he 
it  stripped,  I  will  then  give  you  further  directions ;  but  in 
order  to  save  tune,  take  another  man  to  assist  yon." 

When  this  also  was  accomplished,  he  beckoned  to  a  stout, 
active-looking  little  fellow,  known  amoug  them  as  "  Qiu* 
Harrj." 


138  EEDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLOJT, 

"  Come  here,"  Baid  he,  "  have  you  the  scourges — the  emt 
with  nine  tails  ?" 

"  I  have,  sir,"  replied  Harry  ;  "  and,  upon  my  sowl,  itfs  I 
that's  ripe  and  ready  to  use  them." 

"  Take  him  over,  then,"  said  he,  addressii  g  Goliah  and  hii 
companion  ;  "  strap  him  with  a  rope  against  a  tree — and  yon. 
my  little  man,  give  him  fifty  lashes  ;  neither  more  nor  less." 

When  Lucas  heard  this  he  could  keep  silence  no  longer. 

"  If  you  be  the  great  Rapparee,"  said  he,  "  you  belie  your 
own  character.  I  have  often  heard  that  you  were  generous." 

"  Generous  !"  he  replied,  proudly — "  who  dares  assert  that 
I  am  not  f  Yes,  sir,"  he  proceeded,  "  I  have  performed  acts 
of  generosity,  of  charity,  of  mercy,  that  your  dastardly  spirit 
could  not  conceive  during  a  whole  eternity.  But  I  am  not 
here  to  justify  my  life.  I  leave  that  to  another  tribunal.  I 
am  here,  however,  to  punish  you,  not  only  for  the  cruelty  yon 
Inflicted  upon  an  innocent  girl,  but  for  the  atrocious  and  dia- 
bolical outrage  which  you  intended.  Take  him  away  and 
punish  him." 

In  less  than  a  minute  he  was  strapped  to  a  tree,  as  directed, 
when  Quee  Harry  immediately  set  to  the  work  of  castigation, 
which  he  plied  with  such  sincerity  and  vigor,  that  the  unfortu- 
nate scoundrel's  screams  and  bowlings  might  have  been  heard 
at  an  immense  distance — tradition  states  it  at  that  of  three 
miles,  as  the  night,  it  is  said,  was  calm.  When  this  was  con* 
eluded,  they  placed  him,  bound  and  bleeding  at  the  head  of 
his  men,  all  of  whom  were  obliged  to  walk  in  that  degraded 
etate  into  the  barracks  of  Armagh. 

"  Here  is  a  skean  I  got  with  him,"  said  Goliah.  "  WhaJ 
the  devil  could  have  made  him  carry  such  a  thing  ?" 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  said  the  Rapparee.  "  I  will  return  it  to 
the  proper  owner,  who,  I  trust,  will  never  again  be  obliged  to 
ue  it  in  defense  of  her  honor  and  good  name." 


THK   UU8H    RAPP..RKK.  181 

The  Rapparee's  words  to  Lucas  were  prophetic.  His  brother 
officers,  headed  by  Colonel  Caterson,  having  been  led,  by  aa 
investigation  into  the  punishment  inflicted  on  him  by  the  Rap- 
paree,  to  sift  the  particulars  of  the  outrage  which,  now  that 
the  poor  girl  was  free  and  in  a  state  of  safety,  flew  like  wildfire 
over  the  whole  country,  instituted  an  inquiry,  which  ended  in 
Uis  trial  by  a  court-martial,  the  sentence  of  which  was :  "That 
Cornet  Lucas,  in  consequence  of  being  convicted  of  conduct 
unbecoming  and  disgraceful  to  an  officer  and  a  gentleman,  be 
dismissed  the  British  army."  Nor  was  this  all.  He  was  prose' 
cuted  for  the  abduction  by  her  father,  aided  and  supported  by 
the  brave  and  fiery  Johnstons  of  the  Fews,  and  received  aa 
punishment  a  term  of  two  years  imprisonment. 

Here,  now,  may  the  reader  perceive,  not  only  the  extraordl 
nary  talents  and  fertility  of  invention,  which  characterized  this 
remarkable  man,  but  the  singular  ease  and  felicity  with  which 
tie  inflicted  upon  the  head  of  Lucas  such  a  terrible  plenitude  of 
vengeance.  In  the  first  place,  he  robbed  him  of  three  hundred 
pounds  ;  next,  he  robbed  him  and  his  soldiers  of  whatever 
money  they  had  about  them  when  stripped ;  then  of  their 
clothes,  arms,  ammunition,  and  horses,  all  of  which  were  seized 
upon  as  regular  and  legitimate  booty,  and  as  such  were  they 
appropriated.  But,  perhaps,  in  the  catalogue  of  disgraces  which 
Lucas  suffered,  the  degradation  of  his  being  flogged  like  a  felon 
by  the  hands  of  a  common  highwayman,  and  driven,  we  may 
almost  say,  into  his  own  barracks  at  the  head  of  twelve  of  hit 
own  men,  tied  and  stripped  naked,  was,  of  all  he  Buffered,  the 
most  bitter  and  penitential  to  him.  He  nourished  a  long  and 
undying  vengeance,  however,  and  ultimately  lived  to  turn  the 
tables  on  the  Rappare^ ; — but  no  more  of  this  here,  as  wt 
nope  to  treat  the  whole  subject  on  a  larger  scale. 

One  evening,  about  a  month  after  the  event  we  have  just 
tocribed,  there  was  a  wedding  held  at  the  house  of  Briaa 


140  REDMOND   COUNT   o'HANLOX. 

Callan.  The  son  shone  clear  and  cloudless,  the.  air  was  balm, 
and  a  mild,  serene  light  lay  upon  the  face  of  nature.  The  a* 
semblage  was  numerous,  and  every  countenance  was  lit  up  by 
a  sense  of  happiness  and  innocent  enjoyment.  Callan's  house, 
although  large  and  spacious,  was  unable  to  contain  the  num- 
bers whom  the  hospitality  and  kindness  of  both  parties — we 
mean  the  friends  of  the  bride  and  groom — had  brought  to- 
gether on  the  occasion.  They  consequently  adjourned  to  a 
beautiful  green  that  stretched  beside  the  house,  where  they 
nad  ample  room  to  enjoy  the  dancing,  which  is  usual  on  such 
occasions.  Here  healths  went  round,  stories  were  told,  and 
songs  were  sung,  whilst  the  merry  dance  was  sustained  with 
agility  and  vigor.  In  this  state  were  the  individual?  who 
composed  thie  festive  and  happy  meeting,  when  a  well-dressed 
and  very  handsome  gentleman  approached,  and  after  a  pause 
advanced  to  the  bride,  whom  he  bowed  to  gracefully.  Then, 
turning  to  her  husband,  he  said : 

"  Sir,  will  you  permit  me  one  dance  with  your  lovely  bride  f 

"  With  pleasure,  sir,"  replied  M'Mahon ;  "  you  do  her  and 
me  an  honor." 

He  then  took  her  out,  and  danced  with  a  degree  of  ease 
and  elegance  that  surprised  them  all,  whilst  at  the  same  time, 
he  retained  all  the  steps  peculiar  to  the  best  dancers  among  the 
peasantry.  Having  concluded  it,  he  led  the  blushing  girl  back 
to  her  seat,  and  taking  her  skean  from  his  breast,  he  presented 
it  to  her,  with  these  words  : 

"This,  you  know,  is  yours;  and  I  feel  satisfied  that  yea 
ucTer  will  again  have  occasion  to  use  it  in  defense  of  your 
honor.  Keep  it  as  an  heir-loom  in  your  family,  and  as  a  me- 
morial to  your  children  of  their  mother's  virtue.  Perhaps  yon 
may  also  tell  them,  when  I  am  in  the  dust,  that  on  your  wed- 
iing  day  you  had  the  honor — I  will  say  so— of  taking  oue 
dance  with  REDMOND  COUNT  O'HANLON  P 


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»       "            «*             34    «                  "                  "           "           '•  60 

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LEGENDS  OF  ST.  JOSEPH.    By  Mrs.  James  Sadlier 75 

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LIFE  OF  ST.  WIXEFRIDB.    180  pages,  illustrated 60 

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LIFE  OF  ST.  ALPHONSUS  M.  LIGUORI.    By  Bishop  Mullock       60 

LIKE  AND  MIRACLES  OF  ST.  BRIDGET.    Paper  cover 19 

LIFE  OF  BLESSED  MARGARET  MARY  ALACOQUB.  By  Rev. 


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26 
50 

50 
00 
00 

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